APH PruCan Gakuen Hetalia
by DarkmoonSigel
Summary: FOR THE LOVE OF PASTA... This was first published on Deviant Art so some of you may already recognize it. It is my AU set in the Hetalia Gakuen universe. The UsUk story is the introductory to this universe and you should really read it first to get some of what is going on. Badboy Prussia/Gilbert x artist Canada/Matthew
1. Chapter 1

APH PruCan Gakuen Hetalia 1

"Hey…."

Some asshole was poking me in my back with their asshole finger.

"Hey…..wake up."

Said asshole sounded very much like my twin brother but it couldn't be him. He had moved out of our shared dorm room to live with his boyfriend Arthur elsewhere on the World Academy campus. That and it would be very stupid thing for him to do on his part because Alfred, who was supposed to be a super genius on an unparallel level, knew very much what would happen if he awoke me in such a rude, insistent manner.

"C'mon Canuck! Wake the fuck up!"

Did I say genius? I meant Soon To Be Castrated Fuckstain, which was a real shame considering I had just finished putting in an intricate mosaic depicting the world on the floor. Blood is so hard to clean out of grout.

"Matttttiiiieee!"

Oh, that's attractive. Demands have degraded into whining. I don't know how Arthur puts up with this kind of shit. He probably threatens Alfred with his cooking. My twin could whine for the Olympics and walk away with the gold medal of being a bitchy little princess. I could feel the mattress beginning to lift from the box frame, signaling the mattress flip that Alfred was about to inflict on me and my companion.

I needed to nip this in the butt before bad things happened, namely to other people with the surname of Jones. "I will end you if you even think aboot finishing what you are doing.", I growled, turning over onto my back to glare up at my terminally upbeat genetic double.

"Yay! You're awake!", Alfred flung his hands up into the air. And there you have it ladies and gentleman, my brother. Discoverer of intelligence outside the realms of our universe, galactic ambassador and host to aliens, hacker extraordinaire, master of science, and inventor savant of the weird reacts like a fat kid handed a piece of birthday cake when he gets his way.

"Al…..", I started to say to be so very rudely interrupted.

"Cause I have something super important to ask you!", Alfred ignored me to start his new mission in life which apparently began with annoying the hell out of me.

"Alfred…", I tried again, the very image of brotherly love and patience.

"And it's our anniversary next week and I totally need to get something awesome!", Alfred continued, the poor fool unable to read the worsening atmosphere to save his life.

"ALFRED FUCKING JONES!", I sat up to yell my battle cry, chucking a pillow at Alfred in one smooth action. He didn't even have a chance to duck, the poor inept bastard. The force of the blow sent him reeling back as the goose feather pillow exploded, thanks to my super strength and Alfred's rock hard head.

"What!?", Alfred recovered quickly enough, killing any sort of good will toward him by appearing miffed as he started to pick feathers out of his hair. I put this aggressively into check with another blow from the remaining pillow.

"No! Bad genius! Quit obsessing and open your damn eyes! What part of the obvious are you missing?", I emphasized each word with a bitch smack from my weapon of choice. I beat Alfred without mercy to his knees until he cowered underneath his raised hands. I stopped only when I ran out of breathe, giving Alfred an opportunity to look at and past me.

To sum up my previous evening's activities, I was naked and covered in various dried body fluids. Alfred also finally took notice of the other opponent of my bed, some guy from the Netherlands. Frans? Hans? I don't remember or ever bother to. He was good in the sack and always had excellent weed. Other than having a killer body, there wasn't much there. Fuckbuddy was in the same state of undress and cleanliness although the sheets still covered his sizable assets. He was also very much awake now, and looking at Alfred and I like we were crazy people. Maple, I hate it when they don't have enough sense to leave before I wake up.

"You can go. Don't let us keep you.", I told Mr. Right At The Time, thumbing him toward the door. He glared back at me but got dressed in a hurry with only some minor cursing. I yawned back at him unimpressed, resuming my seat on the bed, reaching under it. I cracked open the bottle of maple syrup I found there, saluting What's-His-Face's back as he slammed the door behind him.

"Who was that? He looked pissed off.", Alfred asked from his spot on the floor still picking feather off of his favorite WWII vintage bomber jacket and digging them out of his honey colored hair.

"How should I know?", I shrugged dismissively, though in retrospect I would have to find another drug dealer now. Oh well…..easy come, easy go.

"Ewww. Slut.", Alfred wrinkled his nose at me. Alfred never had approved of my revolving door bedroom lifestyle. Massive intelligence does not prevent him from being a prude, the pathetic one love romantic he is.

"Sit on it and rotate. Just because you're inflicted with monogamy doesn't mean rest of us have to catch it.", I said good naturedly as I flipped him the bird, taking a long pull from the leaf shaped bottle of the sweet stuff. Strange breakfast I know, but it's a side effect from an experiment from when Alfred decided to play mad scientist and dabble in genetics. He dosed himself with weight loss serum(because he used to be a total preteen fatass) that left him with the metabolism of a hummingbird, hyper sensitivity to cold, a permanent tan, and super strength. Alfred then made a second 'new and improved' version of it and nominated me to try it due to our genetic compatibility. Ending result is that it worked to an extent. I have a body that could walk down the runways and grace any fashion spread, all lean muscles and svelte lines with no effort on my part whatsoever. Side effects though include never being able to tan again, an extreme resistance to cold, and a life long dependency on maple syrup. The serum also changed our eyes to all sorts of weirdness. My eyes now shift like an aurora borealis and allow me to see the energy fields around people and other living objects. If you want to get all New Age aboot it, you can call them auras.

"Whatever. Be useful and just help me already!", Alfred went back to whining about his love life, not my favorite topic of conversation. Alfred and Arthur was disgustingly cute together, the yin to each others yang. If I thought too long and hard aboot it, their 'wonderful meant for each other till death do them part' relationship(as odd and twisted as it was involving obsession and deportation) left me with a icky feeling of longing for one of my own.

Am I a little bitter? Hell no. Try a lot bitter. My heart and my naive perceptions of love were ruined by an ex lover of mine, a Cuban artist named Carlos. We truly loved each other or at least I thought we did until I found out that Carlos was also loving many others behind my back. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, my patience and understanding became a brittle things and my view on this silly thing called love jaded and ruined beyond repair. I never took a lover now I planned on keeping past dawn. It was just easier that way.

I rolled my eyes at my foul memories and my fluttering jealousy over Alfred's storybook relationship, finishing off the syrup. I tumbled myself back into bed to cover my head with a pillow. I didn't want to talk aboot this anyway, wanted to kill lingering thoughts about love and being beloved with sleep. Alfred was not so easily deterred though.

"C'mon Mattie! Help me! It has to be perfect! It's our first anniversary and I want more of them!", Alfred pouted. I couldn't see it from under my brilliant pillow defense but I could hear the bottom lip poking out, it was so deafening.

"So go buy him an island. You're rich enough.", I sighed, waving Alfred off. He took this as a sign to sit on the bed next to me. I didn't want to think about Alfred and his boyfriend Arthur, an aristocrat from England. Only Alfred could come to New York on business and find the love of his life by accident while on a McDonald's run in Soho of all places. .

"Would you put on some clothing? I am trying to have a serious conversation with you.", Alfred poked at my bare butt cheek. "And I can't, cause what do you get someone after that?". I have a maple leaf tattoo there(don't ask. Long story involving Canadian Club, some beavers, and a lost bet) that has always fascinated him for some reason.

"At what point has this conversation been anywhere near the vicinity of serious?", I grumbled, swatting at his pokeage.

"Don't be hateful, hater. Help your brother whom you love and adore and want to see happy forever and forever with his cute little scone of love.", Alfred told me.

"I am shocked that you used 'whom' correctly. I'll have to send Arthur a fruit basket or something.", I fished around for some sort of clothing finding my boxers surprisingly close.

"Asshole. I'm plenty smart.", Alfred made a face at me as I pulled on my lucky red boxers.

"Hard to tell by your actions this morning, eh.", I yawned. Alfred gave me a hurt expression, resorting to his patented kicked puppy dog look. I conceded to it before the full force of the expression was turned on me. I resorted to the 'throwing something shiny' technique of dealing with Alfred, one that was forever denied to Arthur and his culinary disabilities. "Do you want pancakes?"

"Fuck yeah, I want pancakes.", Alfred broke out into a grin, all slights against his intelligence forgiven. We would all be so fucked if enemies of the state found out aboot Alfred's weakness for baked goods and hamburgers.

So that was how my day began. Nothing special as far as days go. It wasn't the best day of my life or even the worst but it would be the one that would change everything.

The day a boy looked for me.


	2. Chapter 2

APH PruCan Gakuen Hetalia 2

Going to class or not was my biggest decision for the day after I fed a gross amount of pancakes to Alfred and sent him back to Arthur all sugared up, like an ADD squirrel on meth. Between multiple courses of pancakes and one deviation into the realm of waffles, Arthur's anniversary gift was decided upon, so I guess something got accomplished. I just hope that Arthur really wanted the pirate ship he was getting(Don't look at me like that-all Alfred's idea).

After some well deserved 'me' time with a bucket of coffee flavored heavily with some maple syrup and a shower, I decided that my time was best spent walking around campus. Having a 180+ IQ gets you out of such mundane things such as high school, homework and dealing with the facility. I was only coming here in the first place because Alfred needed a wing man in his attempts to woo Arthur at the beginning of their relationship. I stayed because I like getting laid and this school was easy pickings.

While walking was not too high on some people's academic list of 'things to do', World Academy's ground were quite diverse with several gardens, all in different styles to reflect various world cultures and even had a large wooded area within the school's grounds.

In actuality, World Academy was a city within a city. It had its own art galleries(which I was very amused to see several of my earlier pieces in, under my usual assumed names of course), libraries that housed such rare tomes that collectors would give their eyeteeth for them, a marina(at least Arthur would have a place to stash his future pirate ship), shops and eateries, and just about anything else money could buy. It was where the kids of the rich, famous, and influenced went to learn, live, and play before being released out into the real world. I could care less aboot all that though. As far as I was concerned, World Academy was quickie mart of disposable men. It was like living in a nice neighborhood with a good variety of restaurants within its confines. I got to eat out in all the flavors of the world's rainbow with minimal effort and travel.

My meal from Holland was off of the table for a while so that meant I had to go out again. Hopefully, I could pick up some take out that came with party favors or at least knew someone who could get me some. How I miss my beloved homeland with its lax laws on pot.

I wandered down marble walkways, past many a Roman style building(the headmaster of the school had a thing for that era of history, go figure) until I got to the woods. I let myself get lost in them, taking barely there paths. I enjoyed the sensation of moving away from the grips of rigid conformity, letting the orderly chaos of nature guide me to a stream.

Unable to resist the allure of the sparkling water, I took off my shoes to dip my toes into the rushing water despite the lingering chill in the air. Sometimes I can really appreciate the changes to my body, resistance to cold and its damages just one of them. The glassy ripples of the cold clear water and how it flowed over submerged rocks that looked velvety soft with moss(or whatever the green crap is that grows underwater) was entrancing to me, my mind working out how to capture the effect on canvas, glass, and in stone. The state of my unawareness was the contributing factor of why I didn't notice my uninvited company until he was practically standing on top of me.

"Are you still following me?", I asked, slightly annoyed aboot being pulled back to reality when I smelled cigarette smoke. I liked to zone out in private. I am not a fan of smokers or of people who distracted me from my mental pursuit. There was only one person who fitted the bill on both points, one who dared to openly smoke menthols around me.

"Can't a guy just take a walk without being accused of stalking?", Gilbert Beilschmidt, grandson of the vice principal Germania, the school's leading delinquent, nefarious member of the Bad Touch Trio, and general pain in my ass said. His tone was forced nonchalance and his voice was thick with an accent that he claimed was Prussian although everyone else(including his younger brother) would tell you that his family was German.

"That's an insult to stalkers everywhere. You're too lazy and pathetic to be considered one. Stalking involves some level of motivation, an unhealthy dose of obsession, and a burning passion that drives you. None of which you have, you lazy sack of crap.", I sniffed in distain at him, wiggling my toes in the water to detour the fish from nibbling on them. To my dismay, Gilbert sat down next to me on the bank though he kept his feet well out of the water.

"I don't remember asking you to join me.", I said in a tart tone, turning my head to look at the albino for the first time during this encounter. He was dressed in his usual uniform which was a shredded, stained version of the school's own with a healthy amount of leather thrown in to keep it interesting.

"I don't see your name on it, Arschloch.", Gilbert said, blowing smoke into my face. I held my breathe as I leaned away from him, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me cough. I didn't want to leave this lovely space just yet but my present company left me a lot to be desired with.

"Yes, very mature, hoser. Enjoy it all then by yourself.", I muttered, bracing my arms to get up. I sure as shit didn't feel like playing these kind of games this early in the morning with an idiot. I was jerked off balance, falling back into my seat by a firm grip on one of my forearms.

"You really don't want to test me.", I said softly in warning, the only one I would give. Just because I am a mellow quiet guy doesn't mean I am going to take shit from anyone with a smile. Some people would take my murmur as a sign of submission. Others would start running(Alfred was one of these people-See. Told you, total genius) The later would live to see another day. Gilbert was turning out to be the hospital bound former.

"Quit being such a drama queen and stay.", Gilbert spat out, giving me a harsh look but released my arm.

"I have so many compelling reasons to do so.", I arched a brow at him, brushing my arm off as if it were tainted. Gilbert responded by putting out his cigarette on the heel of his boot, pocketing the butt and earning a brownie point from me despite my irritation.

"Aren't you cold?", Gilbert asked, nodding his head to my still submerged feet. It took me a moment, but I realized that he had been staring at them this entire time, the two of us having not made eye contact once. It bothered me a little, though I couldn't tell you why.

"No. Are you here to annoy me or just bore me to death with stupid questions?", I countered, my patience wearing well past thin with this whole situation. I figured if I pissed him off enough, he would leave or give me an excuse to kick his ass. Either would work for me right now. Gilbert continued to defy my wishes though by not responding in any manner I thought he would have. I had originally pegged him as an ill tempered hothead, based on his reputation and his school records(It's convenient to have a twin who is a talented hacker).

"Nein…I just wanted to sit beside you.", Gilbert mumbled, still studying my pale feet in the water, his bloody eyes tracking the baby fish that darting to and from them. I expected an argument from him, for him to jump up and accuse me of not recognizing the extent of his 'awesome'. I didn't expect Gilbert to give me a rational and surprisingly non offensive answer.

"Why? I'm not doing anything. I can't imagine that being very entertaining for you. Isn't there a freshman somewhere who needs to be traumatized and put into a locker?", I sighed, put out and confused by the self proclaimed Prussian's behavior. "Why don't you go find Francis and Antonio to sit with, eh? They don't seem to mind your company.", Gilbert stayed unusually quiet, pulling up blades of grass in idle gestures to let them fall from his fingertip into the water. We both watched their voyages down the stream into the great unknown.

"I don't want to hang out with them right now. I came looking for you.", Gilbert shrugged. Fed up, I peeked over my glasses at him. It was cheating by fuck it. Why have a weird genetically altered advantage and not use it?

As always, Gilbert's energy was an emoted rainbow, the expanse of it glittering around and about his head and shoulders. I have to admit it was one of the most beautiful I have ever seen on a person. Most people seem only capable of possessing one or two emotions at a time with a general background of grayness that only extends a couple of inches past the crown of their head. Gilbert was a paint wheel and his personal energy field was immense. His palette swirled with the clashing reds of anger and lush, the softer pinks of affection, the punchy orange of excitement, the various greens of discomfort and embarrassment, the mellow blues of depression, the rich purples of pride, and the inky blacks of sorrow and other bitter feeling. Silver and gold mingled through and around all these colors, signaling more opaque and complex emotions underneath all the ones I could decipher.

It was beauty beyond the definition of the word, hypnotizing to look at even, but it gave me no real clue to what Gilbert was actually feeling at the moment. There was just too much to sort through at a glance. Hell, I can't make sense of it if you gave me hours.

"Are you hungry?", Gilbert asked. He was still watching the contents of the stream and the question sounded almost shy despite the brusque tone it was spoken in.

"I could eat.", I answered cautiously. Another glance told me his energies were swirling brighter with pinks and orange before going back to their chemical spill mixture of bright color. Ok…..so he was excited and happy? I didn't read any ill will toward me in the mix though(which would be an ugly shade of puce if you were wondering) so it might not be a stupid trick or prank.

Gilbert stood up, brushing his pants off before offering me his hand. I pointedly ignored it, leaning over to reclaim my socks and shoes, taking my time with them. Gilbert took back his hand with a grunt but waited patiently for me until I was done.

To my surprise when I got up to follow him, Gilbert did not walk back toward campus but went deeper into the woods instead. He took a path that he only seemed to know, the trees becoming thicker and more still here. It was becoming harder to remember that we were still even in a city, it was so quiet, the only noises heard were of our own passing and the occasional bird in the distance.

We emerged into a small clearing after a short while where only a lone tree stood. It was small with low hanging branches dressing in dark green foliage that had a glossy sheen to its oval leaves. Its limbs were weighed down with the amount of small golden fruit that gathered thickly in clusters upon it. Despite my extensive woodland knowledge(I'm Canadian-we're expected to know these things, m'kay), I failed to recognize the tree's genus or even the fruit that it bore.

Gilbert motioned me over to it, plucking off some of the fruit to pop it into his mouth. After a moment, he nodded in satisfaction and handed some of it to me before spitting out a mouthful of skin and seeds.

"Charming. What the hell is it?", I asked, staring down at the golden fruit. It was aboot the size of a kumquat but with smooth, nonporous skin. It was also a bit fuzzy like a peach.

"Just eat it. You can eat the skin of it too but the seeds are bitter as hell. The juice and pulp are the best part. Just spit out the rest." Gilbert instructed me, already reaching for some more.

Shrugging, I acquiesced, tentatively trying one. I sucked out the guts of the fruit as I moved the seeds off to the side of my mouth. To my surprise, it was actually quite delicious. The juice was light and flavorful as any fine Riesling or ice-wine with a sweet tangy taste to it. The skin was a little bitter and I could understand now why Gilbert disliked it as I spit out my own seeds. I still could not place an identity to the fruit though.

"This is…..good. Really good. What is it?", I admitted my delight and my ignorance, both rare occurrences to happen at once with people I am not close with or fond of.

"Japanese plums. A friend of mine planted the tree here a while ago for me. He moved back to Japan last year.", Gilbert said, looking over at the tree with a look I would dare to call fond.

"Were you close?", was all I could think of to say. I was enjoying the albino's silence less and less for some reason the more time I spent in his presence. I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was but if I had to pick something out to be bothered by, it was that he grew too still for my liking. Gilbert was one of those people who needed to emote and move around constantly. He was not meant to fade into himself. I found myself wondering why I suddenly cared aboot something like that.

"Ja. We still Skype and shit, but it's not the same. The time difference really sucks too.", Gilbert shrugged, shoving more fruit into his mouth in a manner I assumed was to keep himself from talking. I feigned adjusting my glasses to watch his aura. It swirled with blacks and shades of acidly green more prominently now, signaling how upset Gilbert actually was aboot it. They must have been close.

"Why are you showing me this, eh? It seems special to you.", I asked ,making my question as blasé sounding as possible as I picked some more fruit. It was delectable and I wasn't aboot to miss out because Gilbert was feeling depressing. I'm an artist, damn it, not a life coach.

"It's the only time of year you can eat this fruit.", Gilbert answered between fruit mastication and spitting, "And I thought you would like it."

I paused in my gathering, my reach stilled and my body frozen as if dashed with a sheet of cold water. No one had shown me this level of consideration in a while and it was shocking to receive it now considering the source. Even wrapped in my armor of animosity and anonymousness, people still seek me out for projects, always wanting a piece of me, sometime more than I can give or am willing to give whether it was my time, my talent, or my body. To be presented with a gift with no strings attached or expectations was a uncommon thing for me to experience. Even Alfred never offered that all the time to me. Ingrained politeness thankfully took over for my stalled out brain. "Oh….thanks."

"No problem. Just don't tell anyone else about it. The fruit will only be here for a few more days before it rots or the birds eat it all. Help yourself.", Gilbert said softly, the delinquent walking away from me with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets, his gaze fixed solidly on the ground before him. Gilbert didn't look back as he disappeared into the woods, leaving me with only the tree as company and some strange feelings to think aboot.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I didn't see the strange albino for a couple of days and told myself I wasn't actually looking for him every time I stepped out my door or entered a classroom. True to form though, he was never around when I actually wanted to see him. I didn't know if Gilbert was avoiding me or not, and I wasn't really sure why if he was. I had not asked to see the tree and he had offered. It did give me time to assess and reassess confusing outlooks and random thoughts though.

The next time I saw Gilbert was nearly a week later. I was in the Japanese rock gardens which gave me a nice sense of symmetry considering what I had in store for him.

"I am still not doing anything of interest.", I told him as Gilbert took a seat next to me on the viewing bench. It faced a stunning example of a zen garden and was based off one found in Daisen-in, a Buddhism temple located Kyoto. I wondered momentarily if Gilbert was appreciating the earthen depictions of mountains, waterfalls, and rivers made in gravel and slabs of moss covered rocks.

"That's fine. I'm not looking to do anything.", Gilbert said, kicking at a nearby rock, answering my question.

"Please restrain yourself, you uncultured plebian.", I admonished lightly. I reached into my satchel to pull out a small framed picture. "Here."

Gilbert stared down at the offering as if he had never seen a gift before. If I was being honest with myself and not too over critical, it was one of my better pieces. A plum tree grew on thickly textured snow white paper, made of fine black ink painted in the style of Sumi-e. Its fruit was wrought delicately in gold leaf that sparkled in the light. It was matted and framed in black lacquer wood, another one of my many skills.

Gilbert only stared at it.

"Take it, dummy. It's for you.", I said quickly, shoving it at him. Gilbert accepted it after another long moment of him blinking before reaching out for the picture. I noticed that his fingernails were bitten short, the edges of them ragged. Other than that, he had nice hands, the fingers of them long, slender, and gracefully curved. His palms were thin, the backs of them and wrists fine boned. I studied his hands openly despite myself, struck with a sudden urge to draw them.

"This…this is for me?", were the softly spoken words that drew my attention upward and away. Gilbert's face was blank of any emotion though his aura shown bright silver. I really needed to figure out what that damn color meant.

"Yes. If you want it. I can do something different if you don't like it or want another style.", I said to have the picture snatched fully out of my fingers. It was sequestered into Gilbert's blazer pocket faster than I could blink. I looked at Gilbert and he looked back at me for what felt like the first time. I was reminded that he never really shared eye contact with me. I was regretting that more and more with each passing second we held each others gazes. His eyes were the rich crimson of fine old wine and lush sweet ports. Comparative to the gems of ruby and garnet in their clarity, the precious stones held none of the fire that lay in those eyes, they were so intense. Sharp emotions made them glitter and flash like little red suns or burned out stars dressed in the moon's metal. His long lashes could have been made of silver for all I knew, the way they glittered and flashed in the sunlight and against his pallid skin. Our moment was too brief, my mind wanting to memorize every facet of those chaos orbs.

"Danke.", Gilbert dropped his eyes, telling my shoes before he got up, hastily walking off. His canary, Gilbird, was jolted awake by the abrupt movement, the small yellow bird flying madly around his head. I watched him go before turning back to the garden's view. I wasn't in the right frame of mind anymore to enjoy it though. All I could think aboot were Gilbert's hands and eyes and how they would look on paper or canvas…

….or on me.


	3. Chapter 3

APH PruCan Gakuen Hetalia 3

Gilbert's POV

A tree made of ink and paper was cradled in my hands, its fruit glittering gold in the sun. It was small but perfect, a simple gift of elegant composition from a very complicated person. I stared at it for so long that Francis and Antonio found me easily enough on our bench after getting out of class(I had skipped again to go look for Matthew-Vati was going to have a shit fit but it was worth it).

"Oh la la. What iz thiz?", Francis asked, leaning over my shoulder heavily, the touchy feely bastard that he was. My attempt to hide the picture, at the very least block it from sight, were thwarted by Antonio who worked in tandem with Francis. He plucked it out of my hands while Francis held me down long enough to do so. Dodging my kick to his knees, Antonio gave it to Francis who was not so lucky, the Frenchman still wincing from where my elbow connected with his gut.

"Was thiz a token of affection from your little bird of love, mon ami? Ze one you have been asking moi zo much advice about lately?", Francis preened. I gritted my teeth in response not wanting to give Francis any more satisfaction. He was loving it that I had to come to him for some pointers though I still refused to tell him who I was interested in.

Francis didn't seem interested anymore in humiliating me though, his full attention drawn to the piece of art in his hand. He looked a little too interested in it for my own likings. "Give it back, Arschloch.", I growled, promising myself to break Francis's face if he so much as scratched the frame. That was unlikely to happen though. Francis handling the picture as if it wear a bomb, his blue eyes widening as his face grew very serious. Antonio leaned in to study it as well, for whatever reason. A bowl of lime jello would have a better opinion on art than the dippy Spaniard, Antonio depriving some village of their idiot.

"Gilbo, where did you get thiz?", Francis asked in an awed tone of reverence, the one he usually used to describe the Ukrainian upperclassman's boobs with. I took the opportunity to take my picture back.

"It was a gift. So what?", I said defensively, putting it into my blazer's inner pocket for safe keeping. World Academy's uniforms were ugly as hell but have some useful features. They dye well, burn easily, and have more pockets in them than your normal human being has uses.

Francis watched it go with a lingering gaze of want. "That iz an expensive gift, made by a master. It is not something given lightly, mon ami. Especially to one, how should I zay, someone of your….Mmmm…..caliber or lack there of.", Francis sniffed, his aristocratic snob coming through, "You are obviously dating an older man. One with taste and money, a rare combination considering zhat he interested in you."

"Nein. It was made especially for me so suck on that fat truth.", I shot back.

"I truly doubt zhat was made by a student and if it waz, he iz a savant and way out of your league.", Francis sniped back.

"His style is very similar to the Ghost who showed a twelve piece series last year in Paris celebrating the art of Sumi-e. The limited viewing alone revitalized an interest the 2000 year-old art form of Japanese brush painting. It had an unique focus on the style spiritual rooting in Zen Buddhism which is appropriate considering disciplined monks were Sumi-e's earliest practitioners. The Zen Masters dedicated themselves to the art of concentration, clarity, and simplicity, translating these intangible concepts into ink and paper, making it an art form of spiritual intensity that can only be really achieved through long years of serious reflection and strict discipline.", Antonio added.

Francis and I stared back at him in shock and amazement. Most of the time, Antonio came off as being the poster child for birth control, but every once in a while he would show some real hidden depths. Francis and I both had some working theories on this. Francis claimed it was all an act, a woven web of mystique Antonio used to lure others to him. Personally, I am still going with the idea that any idiot can hit a target given enough balls and time.

"A ghost? What the hell are you talking about?", I sighed, ignoring the capital 'G' on purpose.

"Ze Ghost…", Francis gave me a haughty look, obviously in favor of using the larger case letter, "…Iz just that of the art world. The one you ignore entirely, you bourgeois heathen."

"Ja, and you are making me care so much more about it now. Get on with it.", I snapped. Francis ignored me to continue being over dramatic with all the posing and flapping of hands.

"No one knows who he or she iz or what they are looking like or even if the Ghost iz one person or a collective.", Francis intoned, "One zhing iz for sure, whatever genre of art the Ghost touches, it is changed. It transforms and iz influenced like throwing a rock into a pond. Ze ripples the Ghost makes travels all over ze world. Zhis phantom moves in all forms, through song, design, and even the written word.", Francis was really getting into his own story, his tone becoming hushed with foreboding.

"The Ghost is considered one of the mysteries of the modern world.", Antonio chimed in happily, ruining Francis's effect.

"Kesesese. You two are so full of shit.", I snickered. Francis wilted a bit but Antonio remained looking serious…..well, as serious as he could ever look with that grin on his face.

"It's true, amigo. Francis and I have been following the Ghost for years with Lovi's and Feli's help, and even Rome's.", Antonio said.

I was left a bit speechless, which the other two mistook as impressed. I relieved them of this misconception soon enough. "Wow. You guys have no life.", I shook my head in disbelief, even as their words lingered in my head. I tapped my pocket, "It just means my gift is awesome then and you're just jealous.". I didn't take it out of my pocket again, not trusting Francis or Antonio to keep their grubby hands off of it. I also didn't like the look in Francis's eyes, knowing well that he was a light fingered bastard. The Vargas twins were still demanding their painting back from him. Francis had made of point of helping himself to both of their private collections more than once and quite generously.

"Zo, who did you zay made that piece?", Francis probed, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue in obvious want.

I sneered back at him, the ploy too obvious even for him. "I didn't.", I grunted, jumping off of the bench, "See you assholes later."

All this talk about art had just given me an awesome idea.

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I took a long and twisted way that looped back over itself to Matthew's place. I knew from experience that Francis and Antonio were not above following me. It's what I would have done.

It's not like I really cared or was ashamed or anything like that if they did find out. I could give a flying fuck when it came to other people's opinions about me. Looking the way that I do seems to encourage any asshole with an opinion that I wanted to hear it. When I am not dealing with some slack jawed waste of skin who has never seen the absence of melanin before, it's usually some other ignorant sack of crap who doesn't like my accent, my attitude, my music, my style, or my sexual preferences. I can't win so I just don't bother play their stupid games. If that makes me an outcast, delinquent, or whatever the hell they feel like labeling me when I am arrested, I'll take it and run, flipping them the middle finger back with a laugh.

When it came down to Matthew though…Matthew was special.

I can admit that to myself even though I chose not to others. I just didn't want anyone else to notice the treasure I have found, like a little bird with a French fry. Like that French fry, I want to hoard him, and keep him all to myself.

Matthew was different. There was just something about him. I couldn't pinpoint it really-his looks, his voice, how he talked, even how he moved. I have seen him enter a classroom late as hell, but Matthew just slips in unnoticed. He usually ends up scaring the hell out the people who sit next to him when they finally realize that he is there. People refer to him as the poltergeist in the room.

To me, Matthew isn't a spirit. He is the moonlight in the forest, silent but yet so there, if you only looked, you would realized the reason you could see along into the shadows of the night was because he was there. Like moonlight, Matthew was cold. He was the type of cold that comes from being sad for so long. I wondered if Matthew knew his heart was so obviously broken. He didn't bother to hide it which tells me he's so used to it, he's not even conscious of it anymore.

No one else seemed to notice it, not even the assholes that Matthew took to bed with him. Not even his dumber than dirt brother. Matthew was crying out to a dim audience, but maybe no one could see or hear it because it wasn't a drop of sorrow or even a subtle rain of laments.

It was a tsunami, an all encompassing wave of despair. If you just looked straight at it, all you would see was a wall until it crushed you under.

Matthew lived by himself in the twin's formally shared dorm. His brother Alfred had paid a lot for space and privacy, getting a loft style dorm room all to themselves. Alfred had lived there until he inevitably moved in with Arthur elsewhere on campus. I didn't know who to feel more sorry for there. Our illustrious campus president had a permanent stick lodged up his humorless ass while the American was a loudmouthed idiot with delusions of grandeur. The couple's fights were beginning to be the stuff of legend around the Academy. Francis claims the only reason they argued so much was because the make up sex was fantastic.

I have never been inside Matthew's dorm room before but I am going to change that because I have a plan now. I have no more time for Francis's advice or just dicking around. I admit I fucked up before with Matthew, but this is going to work. It's going to be awesome and it all started by knocking on his door.

There was a hitch in the plan. Matthew wasn't answering his door. I pressed my ear to it, hoping for any sign of life. I could definitely hear someone moving around in there though which meant I was being ignored.

I hate being ignored.

I remedied this by knocking louder, really putting my fist into it. When I heard footsteps coming in my direction, I arranged myself to look casual by leaning against the frame with my shoulder, my hands in my pockets. The door opened with a curse that sounded oddly French and a rush of very cool air.

"WHAT!?", Matthew looked less than pleased to see me. His long hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, held back with a wooden clip in the shape of a leaf. It looked hand carved and I wondered briefly if he had made that too.

Matthew wore stained clothing from head to toe. His loose white tshirt was covered in splatters of paint and his torn jeans had been washed so many times that they were almost white and looked held together by acrylic. Matthew was barefoot with a dripping paint brushes in hand, bright yellow dripping into black that started to puddle onto the floor unnoticed. His arms were marked up with the same colors of paint and he had a wide stripe of the yellow across his forehead.

"You look good.", I grinned, unable to help myself.

"I look like hell. What do you want?", Matthew snapped, leaning in the doorway like I was as he crossed his arms over his chest, paint spillage be damned.

"I was thinking….", I started, sticking to my plan.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there.", Matthew cut in, his soft voice more efficient in doing so than anyone else's shout. "Don't hurt yourself."

I ground my back teeth together, ignoring the jibe, "You're an artist.".

Matthew looked pointedly down at his still wet brushes and paint covered clothing. "That's what they tell me.", Matthew mused. He smiled a thin expression, one that made me think he was secretly amused about something.

"So you need a model then.", I finished to be met with a blank look, "…..or something."

"Or something perhaps. Where are you going with this, eh?", Matthew sighed, giving me a searching look with his strange eyes. I felt like I was being studied very thoroughly from head to toe. Matthew's eyes were a purple blue, but only when you saw them through his glasses. When he peaked over them, they swirled into a fractured mirror of colors-gold, greens, reds-all that and more. I was positive now that his glasses were just camouflage and fake as all hell.

To answer his question, I motioned to all of myself with a sweeping gesture as if the answer was obvious. Matthew arched a brow at me with a look that told me how very unimpressed he was with the offer….until he got to my hands. His gaze lingered on them for some reason.

"Fuck off.", Matthew said, suddenly turning to close the door in my face. Wearing steel toed boots paid off as I tested their durability. Taking advantage of the momentary gap, I shoved my way into dorm room and past Matthew. I would have said something at this point in time, but all I could do was stare around me.

The room was so ablaze with color it literally took your mind a moment to process it all and catch up with your eyes. Walls grew a forest from drywall. The dance of the seasons passed from side to side in smooth transition from the rigid blues and greys of winter to the flowering whites and pinks of spring onward to the green and golden glory of summer and finally to the riotous fire of autumn to do it all over again.

The floor was a pool of glittering tile. It took me a moment as the image resoluted itself into a depiction of the world. I was currently standing on Antarctica, my boots marking up the snowy white tile underneath. The wide stretches of the Pacific and the Atlantic reflected a strange sky, making me look up.

I gasped. I really couldn't help it.

The ceiling was the sun and the moon cast in a fierce dance, almost like a fight marked with a flurry of blurred comets and the shifting of nebulas. It was set in a field of stars that glittered and shown with strange skill. It was surreal to look in its execution and I couldn't figure out how it had been done.

"Wow." was about all I could manage. A snort of amusement made me turn to find Matthew watching me.

"This is nothing. You should see my Vancouver studio or my work space in Quebec.", Matthew said dismissively, barely glancing around, "Oh wait, you can't because I am kicking your ass out.". He moved forward to do just that.

I ducked under his air swipe in time, dancing nimbly off to the side. "Hey! Give me a chance! I haven't even gotten to the good part yet!", I challenged, darting off to the side again as Matthew lunged at me. An odd low sound let me know that Matthew was grinding his teeth, hopefully in thought. He let a long breathe out as he looked up at the ceiling as if for some guidance from the celestial bodies there. Matthew looked back at me when he was done, appearing to be far more relaxed now.

"Ok. You want to be a model for me?", Matthew said in an overly sweet tone, his grin more sharp than kind, "Strip."

Why he thought that would detour me in any way, shape, or form was beyond me. I couldn't get my clothes off fast enough, articles of clothing flying everywhere. While I certainly didn't have Francis's finesse for it, I made up for lack of style with speed. A certain notion didn't quite catch up to me until my boxers hit the floor.

I was the only one going to be naked.

Matthew must have seen some of the realization in my face because his knife like smile only grew sharper. "I will need you to move to the center of the room. When you get there, stand completely still no matter what."

"Why?", I asked, trying to buy myself some time. I wasn't shy but I really didn't like the imbalance in power here right now.

"I have to see what I can work with clearly, if at all. I can't do that if you are fidgeting every five minutes like a toddler who has to pee. A necessary quality of a model is the ability to hold certain poses for a long time.", Matthew said, obviously amused, "If you aren't willing to perform such a simple task or unable to do so physically, then there is really no way you can be my model."

Matthew had no idea the efforts I would go through or of the sacrifices I was willing to make for him even it meant some of my pride. I held my head up high as I strutted to the center of the room. The only thing I wished for was that it was a little bit warmer in here. Matthew had the AC cranked for some reason(even though it was fucking April and still cold as hell) and my skin was already goose bumping in the chill of the dorm. I had forgotten that Matthew seemed to like the cold. One thing was certain. It wasn't doing great things for the five meters or the boys, my balls traveling painfully north into my stomach cavity. I resisted the urge to shift and cover myself, standing perfectly still.

I waited.

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Matthew's POV  
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I was actually astonished. I hadn't expected Gilbert to take me up on my challenge especially after it became clear I had no intention of removing my own clothing, sleeping with him, or even wanting his company. For the sake of being fair, I decided to look him over with the same critical intensity I gave all my models. If he faltered under the pressure, it would be just one more reason to be rid of him.

Gilbert was pale.

That was the first and foremost thing one would notice aboot him, his albinism, though the mutation was strange in his case. Instead of white, Gilbert's hair was the color of iron, dark grey at the root that lightened to silver at the tips. Other than a trail of tight quicksilver curls the traced down his lower stomach to his groin, I could see no other hair on him. As I drew closer though, I could see that all the rest was downy white and very fine, especially along his legs and arms.

Gilbert was too skinny. He was at the last stage of development in his growth where meat would not stay on his bones for anything. What muscle was there were lean and very sharp in definition, his arms and legs corded with them.

I circled Gilbert slowly, changing angles to study him further. The self proclaimed Prussian obeying my wishes for once by keeping still though I could see his muscles tense. He didn't like having someone standing behind him, that much was clear, from the way his shoulders hunched slightly. His back stood out in rigid relief to me, his shoulder blades like folded wings in their sharpness. His backbone was a path of stairs I wanted to climb with my fingertips. Gilbert had some scars from fights and such, thin silvery lines here and there, denoting old injuries. His ass was perky though, high and surprisingly well rounded with shallow rounded indentations above each cheek. Unable to help myself, I gave into temptation, letting my fingers graze across them lightly.

Gilbert looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at me. "Like what you see?", he smirked.

"I would in aboot five….maybe seven years when you grow into your body some more and can put on weight properly.", I said softly, leaning in a bit to brush his ear with my lips, "You're so skinny you look like a corpse."

Gilbert turned his head back with a snap to look forward, his hand curling into fists. I kept my hands in place, letting them slide over the sharp arch of his hips, following the line of them as I came to face him again. I left my hands resting on the sides of his narrow hips. I started my way low this time, working my way up.

His feet and legs were long and thin, his feet not nearly as wide as I would have thought given the heavy boots he wore all the time. His meat hung heavy and low between his legs, hitting him aboot mid thigh, his cock and balls a very pale shade of pink. It was impressive considering how cold I keep my room. I studied them openly, smiling a bit when I heard his breathing speed up. Just because I could, I splayed my fingers slowly until my hands were fully fanned out to grip his sides. Grinning, I watched his cock twitch in response.

"So sensitive.", I purred, letting my eyes resume their travel upward again. To his credit, Gilbert remained a statue, only grunting in response.

His belly button was an innie and small, nestled between his cut abs. All the muscles of his torso were flat and compact with more lean muscle, sharp enough you could shave with them. Gilbert's nipples were small and the same shade of shy pink his groin was, the little nubs rock hard from the blast of the AC. I pinched one just to see what color it would turn. Gilbert hissed out something German under his breath but didn't move other than to glare at me.

His collarbones were almost fragile looking things in their grace and curve, accenting the arch of his neck beautifully. The muscles of his throat were tightly corded but that could have been from Gilbert clenching his jaw so hard I thought his back teeth would crack. I smirked in the face of his furious expression. He was a couple inches shorter than me, the difference in height not too great considering I tended to slouch a lot. Spending hours bent over canvas will do that to you. All in all, if I was being candid with myself, Gilbert was a strange creature made of sharp angles and points, almost alien in his strange splendor.

And then I looked up and my breathe was taken away from me in a rush.

After looking at so much void and neutral color, the red of his eyes was like fresh blood on snow. Startling. Hot. Almost cruel.

I let Gilbert go, ignoring the tingling in my fingertips as I took a step back from him to tap my chin with my fingers. My own thoughtful gesture surprised me. I was actually considering Gilbert's insane proposal.

"Well?", Gilbert growled out at me. He twitched as if reacting to something. It took me a second to realize he was trying not to tremble from the cold, something he had not complained aboot once.

"You'll do.", I sighed, slightly disgusted with myself for becoming soft, "I have to warn you though. You won't like being my model. You can get dressed by the way. I can see you're cold.".

"Why not?", Gilbert chattered, lunging for his clothes, confirming his condition.

I waited until Gilbert was done getting dress and had his full attention to give him a wicked grin, "Because I don't sleep with my models."

Gilbert only paused for a moment, "That's fine, but I don't model for just anyone.

"I'm not paying you.", I said flatly.

"And I'm not asking for any money.", Gilbert snapped, "If I model for you, you can't sleep around anymore.".

It took a moment but I soon dissolved into fits of laughter. "How does that work?", I somehow managed out between giggles.

"If I am going to let you use me, I want your full attention. I don't want to work with someone who is worried about who he is fucking or be distracted by a lover. I'm too awesome for that.", Gilbert said with immense dignity, enough of which to cut my bout of mirth short.

"Steep price for any model especially an inexperienced one.", I chuckled dryly.

"Take it or leave it.", Gilbert said in iron tones that brooked no argument.

"Leaving it.", I scoffed, thumbing him toward the door, "This has been amusing but I'm busy so I'll let you find your own way out.".

Gilbert did something odd then, the Prussian stripping back down to bare skin with surprising efficiency considering how fast he was the first time. He plunged his hands into an open bucket of black paint(really bad habit of mine, not putting the lids back on things), swearing the paint across his face so that the paint made an impromptu mask. He opened his eyes then, looking at me through his wet mask. I stared back intrigued.

"Even when you use me as canvas?", Gilbert said, his voice quiet but intense. I watched the moist gleam of the paint against the matte of his dry skin, the black on white and glossy to flat contrast. The crimson eyes burning through it all made my mouth dry out as ideas began to swirl aboot in my head in a whirlwind of concepts and experiment I had never tried before.

I moved up to him until we were almost nose to nose, our mingling breathe creating the only wall between us in the slim space. "Anything I want. I get to do anything I want to your body no matter how weird. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how fucked up it is.", I wasn't asking I realized belated. I was demanding with an intensity that I hadn't felt in a long time. It scared me.

"Fine by me, but you can't touch other guy while we are together. I find out you're sleeping with anyone and the deals off.", Gilbert didn't even blink, responding smoothly.

"That includes you. I wasn't kidding when I said I don't sleep with my models.", I warned.

"I didn't come here to get laid.", Gilbert countered harshly as if offended.

"Why did you come here then?", I asked. This whole encounter was confusing to me, the whole situation spiraling out of my control. My life had made sense not just twenty minutes ago, I was sure of it.

"Do we have a deal?", Gilbert ignored my question, his eyes never breaking from mine.

I drew back with a sigh, my eyes lingering on Gilbert's face as the excess paint curved down the sharp inclines of his cheeks. It gave his mask an all new dimension, one I wanted to brand on paper or canvas and carve into wood or mold into metal. I only had one answer for him.

"Deal. I'll take it."


	4. Chapter 4

APH PruCan Gakuen Hetalia 4

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Matthew's POV  
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Some form of concentration is essential in all artists. While each is unique in his or her method of completion in their projects, not even humble doodles can get finished without a solidification of single mindedness and time.

This is something I repeated back to myself as a sort of mantra when my front door flew open with the sharp cracking of wood and the shriek of torn metal. My canvas reacted or would have, my free hand clamping down in time on any wild movement to keep rocking down to a minimal and thus messing up the last intricate part of my creation.

Were we under attack? No.

Was my dorm room being broken into? Not in the typical sense.

Was it my ridiculous twin with his total lack of restraint and loads of super strength excited about something and silly things like locked door were for other people? My brutalized door barely hanging off of its hinges was saying yes. Yes, yes it was.

"Mattie! Wow, it's actually kind of warm in here for once! I got some…..WHOA! OH MY FUCKING GOD!? WHY!? CAN'T UNSEE! CAN'T UNSEE!", Alfred started off at his normal level of enthusiasm(which is loud to begin with) before taking it to new deafening heights of excitement(I swear to Maple that damn serum did something unholy to his lungs-no one should be that fucking loud).

"Well Alfred, there are these things called doors that one uses to gain entry into another's home. If said door is closed, and above all locked, then one can safely assume that the person within does not want to be disturbed at that particular moment in time.", I said in an icy calm voice, my focus completely on my canvas, the cone shaped applicator of henna moving across the white skin of it without pause to random idiots.

"Geez Mattie….I…um….", Alfred started to say sheepishly.

"I'm not done speaking yet, Alfred Fail Jones.", I said, the words barely above a hiss. I heard Alfred gulp audibly, shutting his mouth with click of porcelain. I bit back a smile, happy with the knowledge that I could still install such pure fear so effectively into him with just a few words.

"Now. For all intents and purposes, I am going to assume the reason you broke my door down for is super important and needs my immediate attention." I intoned, drawing the words out purposely slow for full impact upon my worried audience, "And when I say important, it had better be news of someone, that we both mutually care aboot, being injured or dieing. This does not include the well being of any fictional character.".

Alfred made some sort of peculiar noise. It was a painful sounding mixture between a cough and dry heaving.

"In light of this fact, this had better not be some random information aboot your latest movie or comic book obsession I couldn't give two flying fucks aboot.", I continued, ignoring his discomfort, "Or anything else for that matter, you could have texted me and I could have read at my own leisure, responding accordingly to the contents or lack there of.". I usually don't ramble on like this, but Alfred's discomfort aboot this entire situation was warming the cockles of my heart rather pleasantly. I allowed myself a small smile as I arched the henna over the rise and fall of a prominent ridge in the canvas, the complex lines weaving up its sides in a design that was comparable to the intricate knots the Celts heavily favored. I hummed something new under my breathe, thinking it would rather fitting for a soundtrack for a romantic comedy I was working on. "Because my dear sweet brother, if it is not something that falls into that dire caliber of news, I will be displeased. Very displeased, Alfred."

A nervous shuffle of feet was the answer to my unspoken question on the contents of the subject matter. I would have rolled my eyes if I could have but I was so close to completing my endeavor, the last details around the heart the last thing needing to be done.

"I might be more inclined to forgive you if you fix my door in a timely manner and update my Itunes.", I said after what I deemed a long enough moment of nerve searing tension. I rarely got to torture Alfred like this so I was going to enjoy it to its fullest. I would have liked to watch the results of this but my canvas was presenting its own set of challenges, temperature being one of them. Too much cold, it goose bumped. Too much heat, it sweat. Too much irritation over either and it tensed. Finding middle ground was a constant back and forth to the thermostat, which actually reminded me of an idea.

"Also, make me a controller for the AC or even better, something voice activated.", I told Alfred, dropping the empirical tone as I stepped back to view my work for a moment.

"Mattieeeee.", Alfred whined, sounded slighted for some reason, "It's already enabled for that. You never listen to me.".

"I would if you stopped imitated a three year old who wants a cookie. You know I hate all that tech shit and unless you write it down for me, I won't bother to remember it.", I sighed, using a lemon juice soaked Qtip to fix some minor smudges in my lines. "Is there a password for it? I think I did try talking to the room a month ago to no response."

"No, no password. I just might have to recalibrate the voice sensors.", Alfred sounded worried, "Hey, I got to ask. Why is Gilbert naked, covered in paint, and hanging from the ceiling?".

"It's henna actually, not paint.", I corrected, "He suspended to put the right amount of tension in his skin and it keeps him from moving around too much.". Gilbert wasn't actually hanging either. His feet were firmly planted on the floor so that he could brace comfortably against it. It was just his arms that were tied together really, a hook suspended from the ceiling keeping the knot around his wrists solidly in place above his head. Alfred can be such a drama queen sometimes.

"And the ball gag?", Alfred asked, his tone sounding cautious.

"I agree. It's not aesthetically pleasing but necessary.", I lamented, "Unfortunately, it's the only thing I have been able to find that shuts him up.". Gilbert glared back at me, mumbling something vulgar(I am sure) at me in German. I don't know what he was bitching aboot. It was a small ball gag, one that absorbed salvia so we didn't have any of those nasty dripping issues. You think he would be grateful for not being covered in a mess of his own salvia and the lack of pressure on his jaw. Really, there is no pleasing some people.

"That doesn't explain why he's naked.", Alfred mumbled, picking up the door as lightly as if it were made of cardboard to study it.

"Be quiet and stop showing off your ignorance. Obviously, he's naked so that the henna doesn't smear. It also stains like a bitch. " I sighed, grimacing down at myself, "My hands are going to look ridiculous for a while.". I turned to find Alfred already refitting the door to the frame. He wandered around the room for a moment, pulling out tools and parts he had left behind on purpose. Alfred tended to break shit a lot when he got excited.

"Ok, that will do for now. I'll come back in a hour with something better.", Alfred promised, leaving through said door already.

"Where are you going, eh? I thought you had something to tell me.", I reminded him. Alfred glanced back at Gilbert who looked like he was contemplating eating the ball gag to be free of it.

"You know for the life of me, I can't remember.", Alfred shrugged, "Have fun, bro."

I waved him off with a smirk, "I always do." I stepped out of the way in time to avoid a kick to the knees, my canvas expressing him feelings on the matter.

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"This Scheiße is nasty.", Gilbert made a face as he peeled off strips of dried henna from his chest. I studied the results as he did so, ignoring the crusty bits that were now littered my floor and were being ground into my tile. I knew I should have put a tarp down. I knew better, having done messier projects than this with him in the last few weeks.

The henna left a rich reddish brown mark in its wake, made all the more vivid by the paleness of Gilbert's skin. The relief was striking but in retrospect, I would have preferred an even darker color. I wondered if I could make black henna.

"How long is this going to last?", Gilbert grumbled, rubbing his sides smooth, the henna crumbling off in a flurry of flying debris.

"About a week. Maybe two in your case though.", I yawned, pushing my glasses up onto my forehead momentarily so that I could rub the bridge of my nose. The damn things gave me a headache sometimes. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm going to be painting over all of it.".

"So what was the point?", Gilbert asked, looking more curious than upset. Some people would taken an issue with being suspended for hours for no real reason other than for my own general amusement. Gilbert's tolerance was one of the things I actually liked about him. He was also the type of person who did not ask idle questions to waste time or to hear his own voice(he did enough of that with general conversation). He expected real answers. I only bothered with them because Gilbert actually seemed to listen to my answers. That was a rarity in life for me.

"There wasn't one. Not all art has to have a point. Most of it does not, being nothing more than a selfish diversion of time, attention, and materials. Sometimes it is simply meant to be for the sake of existing in a space of a moment, a place. Life given to any form or creation is a limited gift, one that is not meant to be kept. Parchment, paper, and canvas all rot. Paint and ink fade. Marble and stone chip and crumble away. Metal corrodes or rusts. All things end but that is what makes them so precious, so worth doing.", I said after giving it some thought. The Prussian's brow furrowed deeply, the pale man obviously thinking aboot this concept. After a moment of deep contemplation on his part, I took Gilbert's hand. He looked at me in surprise, but let himself be directed. I never made any effort to touch Gilbert unless it was art related and completely necessary. I ignored his arched brow and growing smirk, leading Gilbert toward the bathroom until he was placed in front of the full length mirror there.

"Look at yourself. Really take a long look at yourself. See how beautiful you are?", I told him, gesturing to his body, "This took hours to complete, time that you and I will never get back, and it will all be gone within two weeks."

Gilbert nodded, seeming to follow the line of reasoning so I continued.

"But in this moment and for an increment of a day or so, it's perfect and you are made more striking by it, for the sacrifice of skin and of self to become part of something greater….more.", I said, "That being said, I can give you no higher form of compliment."

"I don't need to be told that. I know I am awesome.", Gilbert winked at me, before turning back to the mirror to examine my craft, "Sweet! You wove the line in my veins so it's all two toned.".

"Yes, the blue of your veins works well with the mahogany of the henna against the pale of your skin.", I said absently though I felt dully happy that he had noticed that bit of detail. I really didn't know whether to laugh at Gilbert's simplistic nature or not. There were people in the world who would have paid a small fortune for what I had just done to him. They would probably even go so far as to make it permanent, tattooing or burning the design into their skin. For some reason, Gilbert's childlike happiness aboot being drawn on meant more to me than some stranger's blind devotion and/or appreciation.

"So you just did it to do it.", Gilbert mused, tracing the lines that curved and swirled with his veins, "I can respect that.". The design covered most of his chest, running down his sides to weave in and out of his ribs. It curved around the globes of his buttocks, sweeping tendrils of intricate knots under to grace the soft skin of his inner thighs. It finished out by tapering down his thighs to the tops of his feet. I would have to remember to take pictures of it all before he left. Lost in thought, I must have been zoning out because I didn't even realize that I had closed my eyes until my glasses were plucked off of my face. I kept my eyes shut and my head down, turned away from Gilbert.

"Why do you wear these?", Gilbert's voice sounded to my left. I turned my head to the right in defense just in case I opened my eyes by provocation or accident.

"Why do people normally wear glasses? I obviously can't see so give them back already.", I said impatiently as I struggled to stay polite. Pissing Gilbert off did not seem like a good idea at the moment. I held my hand out in demand for my eyewear.

"What would happen if I broke them?", Gilbert said casually, his voice moving closer to me.

I took a deep breathe, letting it out slowly in an effort to calm myself down. This was the side of Gilbert I didn't like, the one who toed my boundaries, made me react to him. "I would be very upset with you and Alfred would be as well because he would have to make me another pair. I would rather not have that conversation with him, considering how much shit I have given him over the years with him breaking and losing his own.".

"Look at me and I'll give them back safe and sound.", Gilbert's voice was almost sing song and very close now. I could feel his breathe on my face, making the skin tingle there.

"I could just kick you out.", I said sourly, flinching a bit as Gilbert touched his forehead to my own. Gilbert would take liberties with my personal space as well, another one of his faults. I'm not the touchy feely type to begin with. Coupled that with not getting laid for a while and you get an oversensitivity to touch that drives you nuts. My skin hunger was starting to distract me, my cock twitching in response to it.

"That would be pretty hard to do if you can't see anything", Gilbert teased, "I would just take the glasses with me anyway. C'mon Birdie, I'm not asking for a lot here. Just open your eyes.".

A simple request but I still debated with myself on it. Alfred had warned me aboot this sort of thing repeatedly. Genetic manipulation wasn't exactly legal for one thing, the serum Alfred had used on the both of us an ethical no-no. Not that any major power or government would really care given the discovery, but Alfred went to great extents to remain free of people, nations, and governments who would use him. Brute alien force backing him up gave Alfred a lot of leverage. Discovery and confirmation of his foray into playing mad scientist would be a definite disadvantage.

Gilbert wasn't a major power though and neither was his family. His closest friends were rich men's sons but they were small fish in a bigger pond than they would ever realize. The danger was minimal and I knew for a fact that Alfred had already shown and told Arthur all about it.

Which left me with a very uncomfortable question-When had Gilbert become as important to me as Arthur to Alfred?

In my shock at this personal revelation, I opened my eyes without meaning to. Advantage was taken fully as cool fingers grasped the sides of my face even as I tried to draw back.

"Beautiful…."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
Gilbert's POV  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
And they were.

Matthew's eyes were like fire opals. Fiery reds, scintillating greens, and shards of blue fractured and swirled in a glitter that was very similar to starlight seen through a drunken haze. They shone faintly even in the harsh, reflective light of the bathroom.

"You got what you wanted. Now quit being a shithead and give them back.", Matthew muttered, flinching in my hold, the tips of my fingers stroking the skin it rested on with faint movements. Having enough of it, Matthew shook his head, freeing himself from me. I didn't let myself look as disappointed as I felt.

"Why? You look better without them.", I argued but handed Matthew back his slim silver frames. I was tempted to break them but didn't want to endanger our deal. Matthew was just starting to get comfortable enough around me to joke and talk about things on his mind.

"Don't be stupid. How many people do you know or have seen with eyes like mine?", Matthew snapped, shoving his glasses back into place to glare at me. His eyes were a bluish purple again through the glass. Pretty to look at but not what I wanted to see.

"It's just us here and I already know about them, so why not?", I pressed, "Those glasses can't be comfortable.".

Matthew sighed in response, looking caught between tempted and tortured.  
"They're not but they are a necessary evil. I shouldn't get out of the habit of wearing them.".

"If you really don't want people to notice, you should stop looking over the rims of them. That is how I found out.", I told him, wandering out of the bathroom in search of my clothes. It looked like we were done for today and I was starting to feel chilly. Matthew kept the room much warmer now but I was still susceptible to even the slightest drafts thanks to Matthew's preference for nudity. Unfortunately, it was just for my own, my artist showing no inclination in joining me in my state of undress.

"You're the only one…." I heard Matthew mumble behind me. He pulled the pants I had picked up out of my hands. "Don't get dressed yet. Go lay down on the bed. I want to take pictures of the design to catalog the work."

"You know you just want naked pictures of my body.", I grinned evilly, "You secretly masturbate to them when I'm not around.". I swaggered toward Matthew's bed, climbing into it. It was a wonderful bed made of some sort of memory foam that cradled every part of me. It was like a cloud fucked a water bed and made very comfortable babies together. I luxuriated in it, rolling onto my back.

"I think I can do a little better than that. There is this thing called the internet. Far better selection and not half as annoying.", Matthew scoffed, rolling his eyes at me. He leaned over to smack at my sides. "Quit squirming. I'm trying to take a picture."

Just to be difficult, I stretched out further, arching my back off of the bed before finally settling back down. Matthew liked to take pictures of me here because the spread was a solid black background and he could adjust me more easily in a prone position. I held still as Matthew captured the designs on my skin, letting him move me when needed. I tried not to react, even when he flipped me over easily so that I was on my stomach, though I did shiver when he parted my thighs. Despite his brusque nature and harsh words, Matthew handled me very gently, like delicate fruit that would bruise.

I waited until he was done, timing it just right as he started to move away. I snagged the front of his shirt so that Matthew fell on top of me in a mess of flailing limbs and some lovely French curses. I took off his glasses again, tossing the frames onto a nearby pillow for safe keeping. Matthew pulled back far enough to glare daggers at me, his naked eyes glittering brightly like angry supernovas.

"Damn it, Gilbert! Stop fucking around!", Matthew started to get up and reach for his eyewear. Having none of it, I wrapped my arms and legs around him like a koala monkey baby thing.

"Quit your bitching. You're still dressed and I'm not even hard.", I said, touching our foreheads together so I could look directly into his eyes and he could not look away, "I just want to look at you a bit longer.".

Matthew grew still under my death grip, my fingers digging into his back. He might have issues with bruising me but I sure as shit didn't. I like a little pain with my pleasure, a drop of poison in the wine, "I thought that was what I was supposed to do to you. You're not being a very good model."

"Kesesese. Tough Scheiße. Deal with it.", I chuckled softly. I deemed it safe enough to release my hold on Matthew's back, one arm slipping down lower to caress at the gentle curve of his ass. I used the other to move strands of long blonde hair out of his face. It was like spun silk in my fingers.

"Let me go.", Matthew said in a warning tone. It lacked any real intent or threat though I noticed. I grinned openly at him, my hand tracing his jaw line to loop around to the back of his neck. I gripped the nape of it, massaging away the tension there. I was starting to wear him down.

"We both know you won't do anything. My skin bruises too easily and that would ruin your precious canvas.", I taunted him, losing myself in the sparkle of his strange eyes. They really did glow a soft golden shimmer in the dying of the light, the hour going late.

"I could always paint over it.", Matthew hissed snidely back.

"Don't be a douche. Can't you see we are having a moment.", I sighed. Just to be cheeky, I kissed the tip of his nose. I was delighted to see that it made him blush. Matthew wasn't as tough as he thought he was or else I was better at breaking down his barriers than he realized. By the time Matthew figured either out, it would be too late for him. He would be mine.

"Says the naked man who won't let me go.", Matthew huffed, his breathe coming out in hot little puffs of exasperation and awkwardness, "What kind of moment has yet to be established. I'm leaning toward a violent one if you don't let me up."

"Not my fault you made me this way.", I sighed breathily so that the heat of it would brush up against his cheeks. I watched as his eyelids fluttered a bit. He was relaxing into my hold without even realizing it, my arm around his waist tightening as I reached down to palm his ass.

Matthew moistened his dry lips hesitantly with the tip of his tongue. I lent him my own as well, swiping Matthew's bottom lip with a deft wet stroke. He let out a stuttering noise, his pupils dilating widely as his irises turned almost solidly golden with open desire. "Don't put that entire burden on me, hoser.", he murmured, his retort weak sounding due to note of desperate need in it.

I grinned, knowing the expression made me look feral and wanting. I didn't care. He was breaking down after all these weeks of touching me, working on my body with all manners of material. All he needed was just another little push and Matthew would be mine. He might hate me for a little while afterward but I would help him get over that too. Matthew was looking at my strangely though again, an intent wandering look. I would catch him occasionally casting it in my direction. His eyes flickered over my head and shoulders as if he were divining air or trying to make sense of something intangible around me. "What are you looking at?", I asked, keeping my tone soft so I would not startle him or break the mood, "I left Gilbird with Francis. Did I miss a few feathers or do I have bird shit in my hair again?"

"No. You're fine…..just fine. Just you, so vividly so. You wouldn't believe me if I told you what I see…..how much you shine.", Matthew whispered nonsense, his lips turning up in a sly half smile, amused but content to keep his own secrets. His expression softened with more wanton emotions though after a moment, his head tilting so that his lips brushed barely against my own. The silken skin rasped in its passing, a fantastic sound so soft in its utterance it could have been missed easily but it rang as loud as church bells in my ears. It was a perfect moment, one that I wanted to last forever or move on to something else…something greater…..

"I-I'll just come back later.", Alfred stammered out, making us both freeze mid-action.

"Damn it, Alfred!"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Needless to say the moment was ruined and I was kicked out along with Alfred after his poorly mistimed interruption of cock block.

"You fucking suck, you know that?", I growled at the stupid American, Alfred walking beside me for whatever reason. I don't know why the asshole was following me but it was really starting to piss me off. It was late so no one was really around since World Academy had a curfew. Not like I cared and apparently Alfred didn't either, but it did give me the perfect opportunity to kick his ass.

"Did you want something from me, Du Hurensohn? Cause I'll feeling all sorts of generous.". I cracked my knuckles for sharp emphasis on my meaning. You know, just in case Alfred missed the point I was trying to make which wouldn't have surprised me at all. Alfred's expression told me he was unimpressed though. I recognized the look, having seen it more than once on Matthew's face. It bothered me on some level that the twins could share the same manner of expressions so closely. Even worse, Alfred didn't even appear to be listening to me, the dumb ass looking around the campus for something. He stopped when his eyes alighted upon a nearby bench made entirely of carved white marble.

"Hey, I'm talking to you….", I yelled at Alfred though I ended up trailing off when he went over to the bench to pick it up. And when I say pick it up, I mean Alfred grabbed the thing with two hands and lifted it high over his head. He proceeded to balance the damn thing in one hand as if it were a baton or something.

"This is roughly about 900 pounds, give or take a few. Did you know that?", Alfred said conversationally, as if we were talking about the weather and not the piece of solidly carved rock that he was currently playing with.

"Nein. Can't say that I did.", I dry swallowed, shoving my hands into my pockets. I need when I had been one upped. Alfred was making a point about something. I just needed to wait and see what it was…that and try not to be beaten to death with a chunk of rock.

"Well, now you know.", Alfred smiled. It didn't look pleasant though. More like he was considering where to bury my body or if the blood stains were going to be worth washing out of his clothes. "I also really love my brother."

Oh, so that's what it was about. "Funny thing. I do to.", I said carefully, moving a little further away from Alfred as I confessed. I am pretty sure he could have thrown the bench at me and I wanted to give myself some room it dodge.

"I would really hate to see him get hurt.", Alfred looked at me pointedly. A rush of blunt rage made me reconsider things like commonsense and personal well being as I strode up to the American to shove my face into his own.

"If you care so fucking much, why haven't you noticed that he's bleeding out emotionally?! It obvious he's been that way for a while!", I snarled, my spit hitting Alfred in the face. "You're worried about ME hurting him?! Why the hell don't you go use that bench on the guy who screwed up or screwed over Birdie in the first place?! Where the fuck were you?!".

We both had to scramble for a moment. Alfred lost his concentration balancing the bench, so it came crashing down nearly on top of us. If you were wondering, 900+ pounds of marble hitting the ground makes a lot of noise. Alfred and I looked down at the pile of rock formerly known as bench before looking back at each other. We did the first thing that came to mind.

We ran like hell.

"You fucking moron! Why the hell did you drop it?! I thought you were strong!", I yelled at him as we put hell to leather across campus.

"I am! You just surprised me is all.", Alfred snapped back.

"Why are you following me?!", I skidded to a stop as we ducked into one of the Academy's gardens, a safe distance away for the crime. Destruction of property wasn't a new thing for me, just not on that sort of permanent scale. From the smell of it, we were in the rose garden.

"We're not done, that's why. Not by a long shot.", Alfred puffed out, "Shit, Arthur is going to kill me when he finds out."

"Pussy. Who's going to tell him?", I laughed, adrenalin getting to me.

Alfred rolled his eyes at me so hard I think he might have pulled something. "How many people do you know that can do that?", he grumbled, "Artie's gonna figure it out. He's smart like that. I am so fucked". Alfred looked around worriedly as if he half expected Arthur to jump out of nowhere ready to reprimand him.

"Keep the kinky details of your sex life to yourself. Furthermore, keep the hell out of mine as well.", I found my cigarettes, tapping one out. Matthew didn't let me smoke around him and my addiction was gnawing a hole in my gut for a cancer stick.

"That's not good for you. You should quit.", Alfred pointed out.

"I think I'll rise above your influence and just say 'nein'.", I mocked, lighting one to suck in sweet chemical bliss. "And I'm not about to take advice from an idiot so blind he doesn't even see his own bruder.".

The American flinched at my words, looking back at me with an almost helpless expression. "It's not my fault. I told him not to date the Commie bastard.", Alfred muttered. His hands started to twist together, his fingers making themselves into tight knots. "I mean it was so obvious that Carlos was piece of shit. I never thought Mattie would actually fall in love with the guy."

My temper bit at the surface of my skin in sharp pricks at the very thought of another guy touching Matthew. I soothed it with nicotine, taking another long drag to calm myself down. "What happened?", I asked. Despite my growing hatred for the bastard, I really did want to know what had happened so that I didn't repeat the asshole's mistakes.

Alfred unknotted his fingers long enough to run his hands through his hair, tugging at it in open distress. I noticed that he kept it shorter than Matthew's. Part of me wondered idly if that was on purpose, a twin thing or both. "The bastard cheated on him, then lied about it. He strung Mattie along for the longest time. Mattie was so in love with the prick that he believed anything the Commie said. He wouldn't believe anyone else, not even me. And I tried. Oh god, I tried.", Alfred laughed, the sound strained with old wounds and bitterness, "He accused me of being jealous of their relationship. It took Matthew walking in on him doing it with some slut in their bed to finally believe us all. After that…..". Alfred let his words die to gesture wordlessly to the present.

I absorbed this new information with all the heavy consideration that it deserved. "Did you talk to him about it or just tell him 'I told you so'?", I snorted. I must have pushed a button because the next thing I knew, my back was being pushed up firmly against the top of a hedge. I would have complained about this but Alfred had a very firm grip on my throat.

"Fuck you! I'm the one who had to pick up the pieces afterward, you fucking prick! Do you think there is anyone one else in the world who can understand Mattie? Really understand him? Think on his level?", Alfred roared up at me. His glasses had gotten knocked off or lost at some point. They glowed in the dark of the garden, casting a hot blue white light on me. It was like looking into the hidden heart of a star. "You're so fucking beneath him, it's nearly an abstract concept. Do you really think you have anything of value to offer him?".

I took the opportunity to respond. My hands shot up to grip Alfred at the wrist but not to remove it from my throat. I braced myself so that I could plant a foot on his chest, using the other to brutally bring up my knee directly into Alfred's chin. His head snapped back with a cracking sound as bones made connection. Staggered by the sudden blossoming pain, Alfred's grip faltered completely as I put my weight into it, sending me crashing into the American with my fists swinging. I got in two solids hits to his face before he threw me off…literally. While airborne, I did manage to tuck and roll, effectively bruising my shoulder, wrenching it, when I land. I seemed otherwise alright as I rolled to a stop into a hedge. Well at least in one piece, so winning?

"I got plenty to offer, Arschgeige.", I groaned, "And if I got to kick your ass or die trying to prove it, then I got no problem with that.". I untangled myself from the grip of the hedge, flopping onto my stomach with a grunt of pain. My throat burned from where it had been crushed by Alfred's fingers. I already knew it was going to bruise. Other injuries put in their vote as well, my shoulder and arm complaining noisily in shades of vivid pain. It didn't feel broken but I wasn't going to be jerking off with it anytime soon. My focus was not on my body though but on getting the hell off of the ground. I was fucked if I didn't get back on my feet. Fights were never won by eating pavement. I could already hear Alfred moving toward me, the light from his bizarre eyes casting trailing shadows. I couldn't make my body move fast enough though, rising to my hand and knees to fall back down. I was a dead man.

So I was really surprised when a helpful hand up was offered to me. I rolled onto my back to glare at Alfred more comfortably. "I don't want your pity, Jones. Just finish it. Kick my ass or kill me. I'm not going to stop seeing your brother and there is nothing you can say or do that can make me.", I spat out. Alfred made no move to kick my head in though. Instead, Alfred crouched down beside me until he sat back on his heels, studying me with a thoughtful expression. I was pleased to see I had given him one hell of shiner and a cut lip, the blood already dripping off of his chin and onto his t-shirt. It felt good to know that Superman wasn't invincible.

"Do you love him?", Alfred asked, his elbows resting on his knees as he steepled his fingers.

"Nein.", I answered honestly, watching Alfred's eyes widen to painful extents before narrowing at me into slits. "It's more than that. I can't explain it to you because I don't even know.", I continued, "But I would never do what that bastard did and I would hurt myself before I ever hurt Birdie. On that you have my word as a Prussian."

"You make no sense.", Alfred sighed, falling back onto his butt to lie down completely. He stared up at the stars for so long, I thought he had totally forgotten what we were talking about or fallen asleep. "I don't know….Don't know now what to think about this or you and that is saying something."

"What's to know? I'm awesome and that's all that matters.", I cackled, my voice rough from the damage to my throat. "So are we good or are you going to try and kill me again? I can give you another black eye for your troubles so that you have a matching set. I don't plan on going down easily.".

Laughing, Alfred sat up, offering his hand to me again, this time in truce. "You have got to be one of the stupidest people I have ever met.", he said bluntly. Alfred was not known for his skills in social diplomacy. "But if you can make my brother happy again, I guess that's all that matters. You certainly have the balls to do it."

"Gee thanks Al. That was a fucking stirring speech. I'm getting all misty eyed here from it.", I rolled my eyes, but took the offered appendage to shake it.

"And anyway, if you guys become permanent, I'm sure I can fix that and raise your IQ by at least fifty points.", Alfred nodded to himself. "The side effects will be minimal. I got almost all the kinks worked out."

"Wait, what?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

After a rather confusing conversation with Alfred about DNA and chemical composition, I decided that I had had enough surprises for today, my weary feet turning toward my dorm room. I hoped that Ludwig was asleep already or was too busy fucking his Italian idiot into a mattress. Either would work for me at the moment and would buy me some time to come up with a believable story of why I looked like a truck ran me over. I must of pissed off some deity with my sheer amount of awesome though, because two idiots tackled me from behind before I could make it through my front door.

"Zo, iz he the Ghost or not!?", Francis asked with no prelude of wanted conversation, leaning heavily off of my right side. My shoulder shrieked in sharp, renewed pain causing me to grit my teeth.

"Tell us, amigo.", Antonio demanded, leaning heavily off of my left side. My body complained about it in several new places of discontent.

I groaned in response, shaking them both off. "What the fuck are you idiots talking about?".

"Ze Ghost!", Francis practically shrieked at me in his irritation, even going so far as to stomp his foot.

"What ghost? Holy shit, are you drunk again or something?", I snapped back, "I'm kind of injured here if you haven't bother to notice, you useless bastards!".

"You are looking a bit more mottled than usual.", Antonio leaning in to study the darkening handprint around my neck in shades of plum and magenta. I really hoped that Matthew was planning on painting my skin tomorrow. He was going to have a shit fit over it. I wondered what I was going to tell him or what Alfred was going to blurt out or admit to meddling. It wasn't going be too hard to put two and two together after Matthew saw his brother's fucked up face and my own battle wounds.

"You are always stepping in ze pile of ze zhit.", Francis said exasperatedly, waving the notion of my bodily harm aside as it were buzzing about his head like an annoying fly. "Now come, come. Tell uz all that you know! You haven't been zpending all that time with the American's brother for nothing, of that I am zure.".

"Oh that ghost thing? You're still on that? How the hell should I know?", I shrugged. Francis should know better than that. We've been friends long enough with each other to know that I tend to dismiss things I don't give a shit about from reality.

"How could you not?! Are you blind or just stupid?! I must know!", Francis wailed, looking about ready to give himself up to despair.

"Like I give a Scheiße. Where's my bird, wino?"


	5. Chapter 5

APH PruCan Gakuen Hetalia 5

I just knew that today was not going to be a good day. I woke up with a blinding headache and an erection so hard you could have clubbed a moose to death with it and in my slumber, it had been left too long on its own to do anything with. So on top of a vicious case of blue balls the shade of raging Smurfs, of course I would received another kind of morning visitor.

"Mattie! Wake and bake, dude! I'm hungry!", Alfred sang as he came through the door. Burrowing further underneath the bedding in a vain attempt to hide, I reflected to myself that I needed to take away his key as I heard Alfred walk toward the bed, full of the good cheer of the well rested and laid…..and probably bed flipping. Obviously still at full attention reason aside, I didn't feel like sharing my….*cough*morning glory*cough*…. with a less than sympathetic audience, one that felt ball tapping was the cure for what ails you. "Whoa, what's wrong with you?", said the bane of sleeping in and procurer of pancakes.

"Nothing Al. Just hungry.", I told him in self defense from my vulnerable position of testicle agony. I didn't need for him to know what I was actually hungry for. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.

"Get your ass up and feed me.", Alfred ordered the answer to all of my life's problems and thus proving the sum of his professional medical opinion which was nil in light of his stomach. I swear sometimes that all those degrees and certificates on his walls aren't worth the fucking paper they are printed on…..

…..Or it's been so long since Alfred has had to deal with forced abstinence, he's forgotten the nasty side of not getting any.

Knowing of my twin's utter lack of patience(especially when it came to food), I staggered out of bed, limping my way to the bathroom for some sort of relief even if it was only emptying my bladder.

"So how's monogamy?", Alfred asked as he hopped up on the bathroom counter to sit, proving that there must be some sort of mystical psychic connection between twins. That and the total lack of personal space sibling share.

"I'm trying to take a piss here.", I sighed as I leaned over the toilet to brace myself up against the wall with my forearm. It was that kind of pee. Nations could of risen and fallen in the time it took.

"I'm not offering to hold it for you. Answer the question.", Alfred said with all of his normal tact, occupying himself by rearranging my products while I was powerless to stop him. Our mother would be so proud.

I groaned, partially in relief but mostly in irritation(I had a system, damn it). It was too early in the morning…..correction…..afternoon for this shit. "Try celibacy.", I corrected, shaking off to tuck myself back into my boxers. "I'll make you eat my soap if you even think about touching my body lotions. Now get off of the counter before you break it, fat ass.". Alfred scooted over a couple of inches so that I could wash up and attempt to look human again.

"Homo say what?", Alfred sprayed out some shaving cream into his hand to play with. He's been doing that forever so I didn't even bat an eye. He says that there is something off aboot the texture and is doing research. I personally think he just likes to swish it in-between his fingers.

"Har har. You're so fucking witty. Why don't you go torture Arthur with it cause I'm not making you shit.", I growled, giving up after brushing away the taste of the fuzzy death that had taken over my mouth during sleep. I needed some maple syrup and coffee stat, not my pancake addicted parasite of a brother. Gilbert would be here in couple hours and I wanted to be ready for the other pancake addicted parasite in my life.

Apparently Alfred had other ideas though. "Maaatttttiiiieee! Don't suck, dude…..I need pancakey goodness to counter the scones of evil in my belly.", Alfred whined, sounding like a kicked puppy. Damn him, I was a lot of things but not a puppy kicker. I would have glared at him in some sort of futile defense but I actually looked at Alfred for the first time this morning.

"What the hell happened to you. eh?!", I asked after a stunned moment as I leaned in to inspect Alfred's battered façade.

"Did you do weird things to Arthur's tea again? I've told you that he doesn't want it 'improved'. For love of Maple and the sake of your love life, just leave the poor man's Earl Grey alone. It's supposed to taste that way.", I lectured, grasping Alfred's chin firmly so that I could tilt his head this way and that. He had one hell of a black eye and his lip was painfully split to the point it was still oozing.

"I didn't do anything to his smelly ole tea. If Arty wants to drink icky leaf juice of suck, then that's his problem.", Alfred defended himself grumpily, wincing as I probed the edges of his facial bruising. I didn't know whether or not to believe him. Arthur had been quite expressive and detailed aboot what he would do to my brother after the last time Alfred had screwed around with the Englishman's beloved hot beverage. It was nice to know that there was someone else besides me who could make Alfred cower like that. My twin was one reanimated corpse away from mad scientist so Alfred needed to be humbled occasionally to keep him grounded. By the looks of it, someone else had taken it upon themselves to do just that.

"Ok. If not Arthur, then who, eh? Who did you piss off this time? Are they still alive or even in this galaxy?", I asked, feeling mildly surprised. Alfred could bench press a dump truck barehanded without breaking a sweat and had an alien in his entourage as backup. If he really didn't want you to exist or even be on this planet, you would not.

"Your boyfriend.", Alfred broke out into a grin despite his busted lip. I handed him a towel absently when his lip started to bleed again, my brain skipping track a little at the word and the person it implicated.

"Gilbert?…..Gilbert is my model, not my boyfriend.", I corrected quickly. I left the bathroom, striding quickly to the kitchen in hopes of leaving the topic of conversion behind me. It followed on my brother's back though like a shit throwing monkey. I ignored the pregnant silence between us as I started to slam ingredients down on the counter.

"Looked like a hell of lot more than 'model' last night.", Alfred raised an eyebrow at me and my casual destruction of the baking soda container. "Just saying.", He added in answer to my stony glare.

"Not funny, Alfred.", I said his first name properly just to show him how annoyed I was with this entire thing and how he should really drop this topic of conversation. Alfred was never one for subtle hints though or reading the atmosphere of a room well or at all.

"Cause he was striking one hell of a pose underneath you.", Alfred continued on recklessly, hell bent on earning himself some more hurt.

I resisted the urge to beat Alfred's head in with the frying pan in hand, going with logical explanation instead. "I have a deal with Gilbert. He models for me. Him being an albino allows me to explore more interesting projects than I normally would be able to with another more normal looking model. In payment for his services, which do not include sleeping with me, I stay celibate.", I told Alfred in an even calm tone as I focused on bringing the pancake batter to completion. "If you were wondering, celibacy sucks. What you saw just a lapse of judgment due to it…..a moment of weakness if you will. You know I don't sleep with my models.". I explained this all to Alfred though it sounded more like I was trying to convince myself than him.

"That blows….or doesn't. Hahahaha!", Alfred was enjoying his humor a little too much at my expense. "I can sympathize…..Oh wait, no I can't. Arthur puts out like a Taco Bell-Hot, spicy, and a lot.".

"I'm going to tell him you said that, but when I do, I'll add cheap to it.", I glared back. I was delighted to watch Alfred pale underneath his permanent tan, his eyes going frantic and wide with fear.

"Oh god! Please don't! He'll make me bottom for a month or even longer! I can't be his butt monkey for that long. Arty gets bored and starts to explore weird fetishes two week into it! Last time he did this thing with a jar of bath beads….I mean I liked it in the end but it shouldn't have been physically possible….and then there was this time with him in the kitchen….". Alfred would have kept rambling in his panic stricken state but I shoved a steaming plate piled high with stacks at him in self defense.

"Never mention of that again to me and I'll stay quiet.", I cringed, mentally scrubbing my brain of certain images.

"Moving on then.", Alfred jumped on my offer, smart boy that he was. "So you and Gil…"

"Um, no.", I shut him down, "We're just model and artist."

"Didn't stop Pygmalion.", Alfred pointed out. I nearly dropped my fork in surprise at the reference to Ovid's Metamorphoses, considering the source. I didn't think Alfred would ever know Greek mythology even if someone brained him with a volume of it.

"I am in shock and awe that you even know that. Arthur really is good influence on you.", I applauded with some real sincerity.

"You're so mean. I updated your Itunes and everything.", Alfred pouted, even though he knew it was true. Genius he was without a doubt but ask Alfred anything cultural and he was gone like Gilligan. He could effortlessly calculated a ship's trajectory through space with math alone, a type that would leave your brain flat lining, but give him a world map and tell him to point out the cradle of civilization and he was instantly lost. I blamed his total lack of direction on all the infinite space in his head.

"That was payment for breaking my door.", I sniffed, cooking off the last of the batter and dividing the spoils between us.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah….so you and Gil…", Alfred went back to the subject like a bird to a French fry.

"There is no Gilbert and I.", I said firmly, drowning my pancakes in syrup to prove my point.

"Why?", came my brother's favorite question in the whole entire world.

"Because…..", I floundered. Why was I struggling with this? That was a silly question to ask myself. Something was definitely there between the Prussian and I, something huge. It lay heavy between us with every gesture, every sideways look, with every spoken word. A spider web of turgid emotions and wants, it's shining strands so delicate they were doomed to be torn asunder by either of us at any given moment due to our adverse temperaments. And yet, it seemed we were solidly bound by them more securely than with chains. "Because…..I don't sleep with my models.", I finished as weakly as a drowning man grasping for straw.

"Whatever.", Alfred sounded cross, an odd tone for him, "But for the record, you're being really stupid."

"Excuse me?", You could have cut glass with the sharpness of my voice. I hate it when Alfred gets off of his high horse to claim even higher holy ground.

"Gilbert isn't Carlos.", Alfred went for my metaphorical throat with no real warning. I could already feel my chest becoming numb and my head dizzy as my world reeled. I hated that name more than any other. Alfred pressed on, ignoring my ashy shaken complexion. "You need to let that go already and move on.". My twin was a bull in the china shop of my mind.

"Fuck off, Al.", I gasped, gripping the counter to white knuckle it. The tile on the top of island started to crack underneath my fingertips. I focused on that, enjoying the web of fault lines that began to grow underneath the press of my flesh. I could always fix it later and the distraction kept me from crying. That was the important thing to focus on right now, not doing that at least. I wasn't going to give that asshole the satisfaction of my tears even if Carlos wasn't here to see it. In a perfect world, he would be back in Cuba, retched and miserable for what he had done to me…and castrated, his junk fed to pigs. More than likely though, he was probably still here in New York fucking his whore of a girlfriend, enjoying a career and recognition that I practically handed to him, the cheating bastard. "You don't know what the hell you're talking aboot.", I hissed.

"I know you've changed since then and not for the better.", If one thing could be said aboot my twin, it was that he was relentless even in the face of adversity, "I've started to see some of the old Canuck I grew up with show up again when you're with Gilbert though."

I countered Alfred's laser like directness with my own finely honed rage. "Who? Someone who could be used like a doormat? Someone so gullible that they couldn't see what was happening right in front of them? Someone so oblivious that they couldn't believe their nearest and dearest when they tried to warn him off? That someone?", I seethed out old truths and self hatreds, "No thanks. I'm good. I killed that useless bitch off a while ago.". I let go of the counter, my veins flooding with ice water as I faced Alfred with a cold expression.

Like fire and ice, Alfred was on his own feet as well, his hands and jaw clenched as a sunburst blaze filled his eyes. His voice shook with emotion but somehow managed to keep it in normal speaking levels. "No. The someone who was happy and mellow. The one who didn't have to sleep around to prove to the world how much he didn't give a fuck, the one who smiled about nothing and sand when he made pancakes. That someone, my brother.". I think he could have less damage if Alfred had yelled and threw things instead of speaking in that rational, nearly calm tone that echoed in my head.

In the end, I broke first, pulling away so that I could throw the dishes into the sink, letting them shatter there. "Get out. I don't want to talk aboot this.".

"Tough titties. I do, damn it! That's part of your problem.", Alfred's cheeks were two spots of bright red from the mixture of righteous anger and deep remorse that made his too blue eyes sparkle an shade of electric blue. He had taken off his glasses at some point in time. Alfred was trying to make a point. I just wasn't sure what it was. " I'm sorry I wasn't there but I had no idea how to help you or make you see the truth without hurting you!".

"Because me walking in on Carlos banging that gutter slut was all rainbow unicorns and sunshine dreams.", I spat, disgust coating my mouth with a sharp sourness. There was an image from my own personal hell. A hand on my shoulder drew me out before I could delve to deeply upon it though.

"I didn't know how to help you…..I still don't.", Alfred admitted dully, his words and hand heavy upon me. My twin didn't take defeat of any kind well. "But I think Gil can…if you let him."

As I blinked back in surprise, I couldn't help it. I really could not. The circumstances between us became so clear to me that it hurt, so much so that my laughter come out in jagged barks.

It was not a good sound. Too harsh. Too rough. Too fraught.

"Maple, what a pair we make….out of the two of us….", I gasped out between tearing amusement, "You're the dreamer….a true romantic. Who would have thought it? You really believe that love conquerors all, don't you?".

Alfred let go of my shoulder as if I had burned him to look down at his feet. He shuffled them like a nervous child in front of the class, his reaction the only confirmation I needed for my suspicion. My poisoned mirth made me almost double over in more bouts of laughter, vile thing that I felt I was. I stopped, forced myself to finish when we finally looked up at each other.

Alfred was crying.

My brother, super genius, space explorer, adventurer into the unknown did not cry. He hated tears more than anything else in the world, his own included, and saw it as his own personal mission in life to conquer them with extreme prejudice. Alfred didn't cry when our parents got messily divorced, arguing in circles with each other while we watched. He waded into the fray of it at the tender age of nine and mediated for both sides. Alfred didn't cry when Mom took me to live with her in Canada, the one thing he couldn't prevent. Instead, he developed new forms of travel and communication so that we could always be together. Alfred didn't even cry when he almost basically sliced himself in half. He talked Tony and I through the whole procedure to put him back together, leaving him only with a thin white scar that looped around his body from the top of his left shoulder to the curve of his right hip bone(the idiot still won't tell me what he was trying to do that day but has gone so far as to nickname the scar his own personal Mason Dixon Line).

That all being said and done, I had just made my brother cry. The least I could do for him was stop laughing.

"I don't understand you.", Alfred whispered, the crystalline droplets clinging to his lashes like tiny bits of stardust and trailing down his cheeks like the paths of comets. His melancholy was uninhibited and pure. My brother knew no shame, even in his own tears. Alfred made no move to wipe them from off of his face. It was heartbreakingly beautiful yet so aching sad to watch, like looking up at the night sky and remembering you are looking at the corpse light of long dead stars. "You write songs that the lonely fall in love to and create things that make the lost believe in second chances and impossible dreams. How are you able to do all that but ignore your own?"

Gesturing helplessly, I looked around the room as if looking for the proper answer, but in truth I was at a loss for words. "I also write the songs people break up and rage within to. I draw intangible concepts to breathe the life of sorrow, regret, and loss into them as I would any emotion. I do it because it is there and I embrace it all despite what thorns there may be. I also see things for what they are and don't fool myself into believing that impossible thing are actually real."

"Nothing's impossible. Just highly improbable.", Alfred shook his head sadly at me.

"What have I told you aboot quoting science fiction?", I joked weakly, faking a smile in a vain attempt to lighten the mood.

"There is a difference between acknowledging something and drowning in it.", Alfred said softly. I felt sick from all this. My twin was never meant for quiet and cheerless feelings. He wore it like an ill fitting suit, one that made others feel instinctly bad for him.

"I'm not drowning.", I murmured, reaching over to put my hands over Alfred's eyes. I wasn't sure if I meant to brush away his tears or simply to keep him from looking at me. He leaned into my fingers, pressing wetness into my touch before stepping away from me.

"Funny. You could have fooled me.", Alfred sighed. His being was in mourning and it was more than I could bear.

"I thought I told you to get out.", I said coldly, thumbing toward the door, "Take your damn pity with you.".

"Not pity. Never that.", Alfred moved quickly forward to embrace me, letting me go before I could react, "I love you and you are loved, Matthew, more so than you'll probably ever know."

When I didn't say anything in return, Alfred managed a watery smile, turning to finally leave. "Take care of yourself."

"I always do.", the words sounded as hollow and dead as I felt.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up with the immediate knowledge that today was going to suck donkey balls. Mostly because I have the German authority on being a killjoy looming over me like the death to all those who wanted to sleep in. The intensity of his threatening presence was ruined by my canary Gilbird, the tiny yellow bird pulling out strands of Ludwig's platinum hair from its gelled perfection to clean them individually.

"What?", I growled out and almost ended up choking on my words. Fuck, my voice was raw, my throat burning from the bruises on it. I'm sure it looked like a ripe cluster fuck of purple and blue by now. I was glad I was too tired last night to bother undressing. My dark hoodie hid a lot of the damage Alfred had done to my body. I was reliving it vividly though, every frayed nerve, every pulled muscle. With a full body hangover, I sure as scheiße didn't feel like coming up with a story right now about why I had fingerprints on my throat and a wrenched shoulder. Knowing my 'I live for the rules' bruder, Ludwig wouldn't get it at all and might even tell Vati about it.

"Bruder, you are going to be late for class again if you don't wake up now.", my younger sibling told me in his deep, grave voice, "Grandfather will not be pleased.". Seriously, you would think he was sending brave men to their deaths with all the gravity he used to announce that. A lot of the time people tended to take Ludwig too seriously because of his tone of doom, but really the guy is a riot after you get a few drinks in him. West's grim demeanor was one of the reasons it took so long for him to get with his boyfriend Feliciano even though Ludwig had been crushing on that red headed piece of Italian fluff ever since they were in preschool together. Imagine a little kid with all the fuzzy warmth and charm of a hanging judge and you have West to a tee. Cause of it, Feliciano was scared shitless of him until just recently.

From what Luddy has told me, Feliciano was being picked on by some other students. The petite Italian was too easy a target to ignore by the other jealous students. Besides getting special treatment from the faculty because his grandfather was the principal, Feliciano was just too pretty for his own good, too talented not be noticed, and too weak to defend himself. Couple that with the personality of cotton candy(airy and sweet with no substance) and you got yourself an instant victim.

Ludwig had happened upon him one day being chased by several older boys intent on doing him some bodily harm. Feliciano was begging them to leave him alone and had even gone so far as to make a little white flag, waving the useless thing at them. Ludwig put an end to the bully's intentions very quickly with some extreme prejudice of the boot heel meets face variety. My brother is built and when I say built I mean his muscles have muscles that you could bounce a quarter off of( if they decided to give the coin back to you). Ludwig treated his body like temple and it was a house of sweat, crunches, and dead lifting 400 pounds. Dummkopf that he was, Ludwig didn't press his advantage with his crush after that little bit of panty invading heroism. Luckily for him though, Feliciano was so impressed and grateful that he decided to cling to my brother with all the intensity of a leech. Nowadays, you can confidently find Feliciano with Ludwig at pretty much any point in time, day or night(West screamed like a little girl the first time he found Feliciano in his bed uninvited). It's worse than having a Chihuahua underfoot that sings constantly instead of barking, but Feliciano does cook so there is a bright side to all this.

"I made breakfast!", the devil himself announced, armed with food in hand. I instantly felt nauseous. It was way too early in the morning to be considering cheese and red sauce. I needed a fucking drink.

"Let me guess. It's pasta.", I grated out my ruined voice box. I pulled the pillow over my head to muffle it and to hide in plain sight. With any luck it would fool the Italian and he would run off and go annoy someone else who didn't feel like they had been hit by a truck.

"How did you guess? Are you psychic?", Feliciano gasped in total awe of my genius(or observation of the obvious).

"Totally. In fact, I see you and West leaving me the fuck alone and me going back to sleep in the very near future.", I intoned from beneath the safety of my cover, "And for lunch you will have….wait for it….it's coming to me….any second now…..Pasta!".

"That's amazing!", Feliciano laughed, clapping his hands together in delight. A slap of flesh told me West had just face palmed himself again. He was going to give himself a concussion one day doing that, mark my words.

"Bruder…Grandfather says he wants to speak with you when you get out of class today. Do not be late.", Ludwig grumbled. I peeked out from under my pillow, trying to get a bead on my brother's and Vati's temperament. It didn't look good for me from this angle.

"Scheiße.", I sighed, fishing along the side of the bed for my smokes and lighter, "That bad, huh?".

"It's your own fault,", Ludwig shook his head, dislodging Gilbird. The canary flew back to his normal perch on top of my own head, nestling down there among the spiky silver locks, "Why haven't you been going to class? The teachers aren't going to keep excusing you forever just because Grandfather is the vice principal. Besides that, it makes him look bad."

"I got better things to do.", I shrugged back, instantly regretting it. My shoulder screamed at me for being so careless. Though my clothing hid my injuries, it didn't hide my wince or my teeth nearly biting through the cigarette butt in pain. I'm glad I hadn't lit it yet. All I fucking needed was a burn or singed clothing. Gilbird cheeped down at me in concern. I quickly reached up to pet his head with my good arm to keep him quiet but as per usual, my luck was in its usual state of nonexistence.

"You have been in a fight again.", Ludwig observed, the nosy bastard not even bothering to make it a question. I could already hear the resounding note of disapproval in his voice. It was another trait that he and Vati shared besides similar appearances. Despite being our grandfather and having waist length long hair, Vati could almost pass off as West's twin and vice versa. The Beilschmidt's were a proud German family who could trace their lineage all the way back to the time of the Roman Empire, a race of tall blue eyed blondes built like brick shithouses with all sense of humor bred out of them, born with rulebooks in hand and grim scowls upon their faces.

I am the oddball out even within my own family, but just not in appearance alone. I like to think I take from the Prussian side of the family, since I wasn't born with Herr schtick up my ass. It's not like I hate rules and break them just for the fuck of it(I do but whatever). I just feel like they shouldn't define or hinder your life. Rules and beliefs try to make the world a place of black and white when it's actually all different shades of gray. I prefer to take guidelines and ideas to heart instead because if you have to, you can change them when needed. Life is a war and every hour is a battle. You have to be flexible to win your time here and never miss an opportunity. You can't do that by worshiping rules. I'm doing my part to show everyone the error of their ways.

"Didn't start it but I ended it.", I obfuscated. West didn't need to know all the minor details. The important thing was that Al decided to let me live and continue to date…..ok, attempt….attempt to date his twin. I'll take that as a victory.

"You should go to the nurse if it's that bad.", Ludwig advised solemnly as he reached for me. I glared at him hard enough that Ludwig retracted his hand with almost a snap. Silly bastard should know better by now than to try and help me without getting my say-so first .

"Ve~, Doctor Wang is very nice. He gives me snacks every time I go see him.", Feliciano chirped, the Italian humming in pleasure at the thought of free food. Damn that kid was cute sometimes. West was one lucky bastard to have that just fall into his lap.

"You need to stop bothering Doctor Wang if you are not injured or feeling ill.", Ludwig lectured Feliciano with a dull sigh. West already knew his words were falling on deaf ears, especially where snacks were concerned.

"Ah…", Feliciano gave my bruder a token pout, before promptly forgetting about it two seconds later.

I laid back down, letting the mattress take me again. "Ja West, I will just trip my happy ass down to the whack with the Hello Kitty obsession and as a bonus, get to deal with his creepy Korean nurse. How'd you guess I wanted to get groped today and told I have breasts by some sexually confused bastard?". Seriously, the medical care here at the academy is beyond fucked up. I don't even know how those jokers still have jobs between Wang's Old World remedies which can border on the weird and Soo's misconception of what and where a boob actually is.

"Whatever you decide to do, be on time about it. We need to go.", were my bruder's parting words. Feliciano's were a garbled mixture of pasta love and begging West for some gelato.

"Fuck my life.", I sighed. I had a pretty good idea what Vati wanted to talk to me about. It was always the same boring scheiße. Where was my life going? What were my plans after high school? What I looking at colleges? Was I even going to college? Was I thinking about doing anything serious after I graduate next year? Have I considered what being an adult meant since my eighteenth birthday was in a few month? What was my five year plan? Did I even have one? Blah, blah, blah, fucking shoot me now. Seriously, what good is a five year plan if I catch a case of DOA tomorrow? A part of me knows that Vati is just looking out for me but I got to live in the present and not for some future that might not even happen.

The helpful clock of help told me it was too early to go to Matthew's dorm but fuck it. Birdie could paint my ass blue and tag it with a tramp stamp that said I bottom for all I cared at the moment.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I let myself in when Matthew failed to do so, which probably meant he was still asleep. Past bad experiences had taught me that it was just better for me to find something to read and let the Canadian wake up naturally. It was less painful that way and I got pancakes out of it and I love me some pancakes. Matthew also tended to sleep in the nude so looking at his sweet ass all I wanted while he was out could only brighten my morning.

A quick look around the dorm turned up no slumbering temperamental Canuck, naked or otherwise. In fact it appeared he had already left for the day in a rage. A pile of broken dishes were in the sink with the remnants of pancake making with them, which raised my artist's level from normal state of irate to mucho pissed off. I got all CSI and shit with my observation, piecing together the events that had led up to plate homicide. Al had obviously already been by here bright and early, brimming with all sorts of good news by the looks of it. So the question was now-Was Matthew angry about Alfred fighting with me or something else entirely? The broken sticky dishes told me nothing else so I cleaned out the sink carefully, disposing of the ruined tableware and loading the rest into the dishwasher.

The whole process gave me time to think and hell, it might even sweeten Matthew's disposition so that my balls might not have stripes or polka dots or whatever crazy scheiße he wanted to do on them today. Better to check though….test the waters of crazy….

OoO Text Message oOo

2Awesome4U-U talk 2 M 2day?

Hero2Zero- Yup

2Awesome4U-And?

Hero2Zero-T_T

2Awesome4U-Dummkopf. Is he w/ U?

Hero2Zero-No. Crap. Where U at?

2Awesome4U-His place. Why?

Hero2Zero-Stay.

2Awesome4U-?

Hero2Zero-Stay. No matter what.

2Awesome4U-Wut did U do?

Hero2Zero-STAY W/ HIM

2Awesome4U-K

OoO  
Well fuck, that was vague and ominous. From what I have heard and overheard, vague and ominous were especially bad when it came to Alfred. I didn't have anything else better to do though so waiting here was my only option. It was also my best option for avoiding Vati and West. They thought I was just avoiding class to fuck around with Francis and Antonio, get high or whatever the hell they thought I did outside of class. I hadn't told them about Matthew or my job as his model.

Finding things to entertain myself with in Matthew's dorm was harder than it sounded to do though. Matthew didn't have a TV for one thing. He claims he doesn't believe in it, whatever the fuck that means. I didn't know his password to the computer so that was out. Plus the thing gave me the creeps. I always felt like the laptop was watching me for some reason which wouldn't surprise me if it actually was. Al is a general fucktard in life but is crazy 'the Matrix had a baby with Inception' smart with tech. I'm sure he had it all rigged up to do something weird and painful to anyone who even so much as breathed on it wrong.

I'm barely artistically inclined enough to doodle stick figures so the mass amount of art supplies here was wasted on me. That and Matthew would happily murder me if I screwed up any ongoing project of his. That left me with the safest place in the dorm and my ultimate destination in life-Matthew's bed.

Mein Gott, I don't know what the damn thing was made of but it was like falling asleep on an angel's boobs. The mattress cups and molds to whatever position you end up sleeping in, lending support and warmth. If things didn't work out with Matthew, I planned on stealing his bed to comfort myself. It wasn't a fair trade but it was damn close. I got a surprise though when I decided to take a flying leap into it.

"Who are you?", a polar bear cub asked me upon landing, my face less than an inch from its snout. I fumbled the dismount as I fell head over heels off of the mattress(Don't look at me like that. I'm not a pussy. It's a talking animal, asshole. How many do you run across? That's right! None, so shut it!).

"What the fuck?!", I responded eloquently in a manly voice and not the high pitched scream the bear would claim later I made.

"Can you feed me?', the cub asked, sitting back on its furry butt to look at me with a curious expression.

"What?! My soul?!", I spazzed as I looked around for some sort of weapon. My shoulder was not liking the impromptu acrobatics and my throat was being a whiny bitch about it as well.

"I want pancakes. Your soul probably tastes like moose vomit.", the bear sniffed at me. I didn't know animals could do distain but the cub was pulling it off like a pro.

"I don't have any pancakes. Why are you talking?", I asked it, trying to distract the bear from noticing me as I took off my boot. I chucked it at the cub's head before it had a chance to answer my question. The damn thing caught it though, rolling onto its back to hold my Doc Martens in between its paws. To my horror, the bear started to gnaw on the expensive footwear.

"Muther Fucker!", I yelled, diving for the bear to retrieve my boot. I wrestled it out of the jaws of leather death. "What the hell?! Bad Bär! Bad talking Bär! In this house, we don't eat two hundred dollar boots!"

"But you gave it to me.", the bear said sulkily, snapping his jaw at me and answering my unsaid question of whether or not it had teeth. The answer to that was 'Ja' and enough of them to make me reconsider smacking the scheiße out of it. The bear wasn't trying to maul me though at the moment so it was time to cut through all the crazy tape.

"So…what the hell?", I asked conversationally, "Do you have name or something or did you just wander in from a lab?"

"I'm Kumajirou and I live here. Why are you here, eh?", the bear countered.

"I've never seen you before and I'm supposed to be here. Matthew does stuff to me.", I answered begrudgingly. I didn't feel like I should have to fully explain myself to an animal even if it did talk.

"I know all aboot that, hoser. I meant, why are you here so early?", Kumajirou amended, proving to me in my mind he was a smartass, "I'm usually asleep when you come over. That and you seem really dumb. I didn't ever feel like talking to you.". Kumajirou paused to take a huge yawn, rolling over onto his side. "If you are not going to feed me or do anything interesting, go away."

"I'm waiting for Matthew.", I snapped. I wasn't about to take any scheiße from a bear.

"Who?", Kumajirou asked, his expression hazy as best.

"Your owner. The guy who feeds you.", I said flatly. This bear had to be fucking with me, right?

"Who?", and that was the point in the conversation I gave up on the bear. Kumajirou seem to have the same opinion on the matter as well because he slid off the bed to crawl underneath it. A quick peek revealed a pile of cushions shoved under there, forming a makeshift cave for the bear to sleep in. It explained why I have never seen the little smartass before now anyway. After a moment, I heard soft snoring and decided to let sleeping bears lie.

I followed Kumajirou's example, reclaiming the wealth of the bed for my own. Ignoring the ache in my shoulder, I burrowed under the covers and curled up with all the pillows there just because I could. Best of all, everything smelled like Matthew, all sweet and musky.

I could deal with that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

What I couldn't deal with was how I was woken up.

Which was by two bodies falling on top of me, surprising them as much as me. I blurrily recognized Matthew's screech of surprise. The other guy, I had no clue though…wait, WTF? Other guy?

"What the fuck is this? You already have another guy in your bed?", a tall blonde with wild blonde hair grinned over at a bewildered looking Matthew. As blondie leaned in for a closer look at me, I feigned rubbing sleep out of my eyes to keep from exploding. I recognized the blonde straight off, though his name failed to come to me. He was a new transfer student from Denmark, some sort of semi professional soccer player of something. I considered biting his nose off as he stuck in face into mine to examine it.

"Not bad. I could go for a threesome and I've never done it with an albino before.", the Dane smirked, making the mistake of sliding up next to me. He mistook my grin as a welcome to his touch instead of the warning that it actually was as I head butted him in the face. My expression turned feral when I felt cartilage wetly give against the impact of bone. Blood warmly streaked down my face and his from his ruined nose.

I had to give credit where credit was due though. The Dane was a fighter, I'll give him that. He rolled off of the bed, clutching his face but he went with a kick that connected neatly with my wrecked shoulder, confirming for the second time that day that my luck was total and utter scheiße.

Clutching at the throbbing mass of flesh that used to work, I bit back a scream, my throat not being able to handle it anyway as I dove off of the opposite side of the bed, rolling onto the floor. Fuck my life, I was on the ground again and tall, blonde, and bleeding was now uber pissed off and hurting. He was about to make me feel his pain so I reached under the bed without hesitation. I found fur my first try, pulling out a groggy bear with little resistance on the animal's dozy part. Even though it wasn't much of a plan, I threw Kumajirou at the Dane's face.

Kumajirou turned out to be a very grumpy bear about this and decided he wanted to express this sentiment with the closest person to him. My earlier suspicions about the authenticity of the bear's teeth were confirmed. The claws were a total bonus though and a nice surprise(for me at least).

Matthew snapped out of whatever stunned trance he had been in when the Dane started to run around screaming with Kumajirou nomming on his head.

"Oh Maple! Kuku! Bad bear! Kitkat, stop!", Matthew yelled, grabbing the blonde as he ran by. Matthew easily pulled the bear off of the mauled Dane, the animal going limp instantly in his master's arms. The Dane, not so much.

The blonde shoved Matthew away from him, his face a mask of blood making him looked crazed. "Fuck you! Fuck him and fuck your fucking bear! I came here for an easy fuck, not this shit!", the Dane spat out profanity and blood at Matthew. For a tense moment, the blonde looked like he might have taken a swing at Matthew until Kumajirou reminded him with a growl that that it would not be a good idea if he really wanted to keep the rest of his face. The Dane opted for retreat instead, bum rushing the exit.

"Don't let the door hit you where the bear should have bit you!", I called after him from my claimed spot on the floor. Gilbird hovered over me, peppering the air with worried cheeps. I watched as Kumajirou wiggled out of Matthew's arms to waddle over to me, the Canadian looking a little shellshock as he stared numbly down at us.

"Are you dead?", Kumajirou asked me, the bear coming to sit down next to my head.

"Do I look dead to you?", I snapped back. Part of me knew that I shouldn't be pissing off the bear who was practically sitting on top of me, but I hated smartasses, even if they are talking animals.

"You look like shit.", Kumajirou grunted, leaning over me to start licking the Dane's blood off of my face. "And you threw me."

"Es tut mir leid, Bär.", I apologized, "But it worked. Now why don't you take Gilbird and go find yourself a shady spot. I got to talk to Birdie.". Matthew still hadn't said anything or had even moved from his spot. He could have been a statue if not for his hands clenching and unclenching at regular intervals. I didn't know what that was good thing or a bad thing, but hopefully it meant he wanted to kiss me and not strangle me to death.

"Gilbird?", Kumajirou held off on the tongue bath to give me a curious look by tilting his head to the side. I leaned up on my good left forearm but grimaced as I rose the right to catch my canary mid-flight, plopping the little yellow ball of fluff on top of the polar bear's head.

"Kuma, Gilbird. Gilbird, Kuma. Now go talk amongst yourselves.", I waved them off after making introductions. The bear shrugged in a very human like manner that was kinda creepy before trotting off. The ensuing silence left behind was nice between Matthew and I, almost soothing. I knew it was never meant to last though.

"What are you doing here?", Matthew asked, breaking the peace first with a whisper that struck like a blow.

"We had plans. You know the same thing we do every night…Dye me, paint me, glue me, spackle me. Have skin, will cover type deal.", I growled out, "The better question is-What the hell are you doing? I thought we had a deal.". I was proud of myself. I managed to make the question sound almost civil.

"Deal's off if case you missed it.", Matthew shut his face down, his words covered in a layer of frost. It was the same kind of tone and inflections that he had used on me when we first met. I gritted my teeth in irritation. Fucking hell, we were back to this scheiße again?

"Why!? I kept my end of it!", I managed out thinly though clenched teeth as I made myself sit up. It was painful even while keeping my arm still, folded in close to my side, but I had to get on my feet. Any kind of fight should be done on your feet. My body was not a happy camper but I had been through worse, so I ignored it all to focus on Matthew who's own body looked like it was trying to decide between the urges of fight or flight.

"I'm bored. Bored with you and bored with our deal. It's called moving on.", Matthew said flippantly. His voice lacked conviction though sounding more guilty than carelessly airy.

"Liar.", I spat out in disgust, letting the feeling show on my face. Matthew had the decency to flinch from it but not enough to drop the charade he had himself committed to.

"You don't know me well enough to call me that.", Matthew faked laughed, the noise coming out high and strained instead as lofty as it might once have been. Mein Gott, I hated that sound. He shouldn't have even bothered. I have been friends with Francis for years. The Frenchman was the master of putdowns, social smiting, and the backhanded compliments. After exposure to that for so long, Matthew's attempts were so pathetic and transparent it was just painful to watch.

"The hell I don't.", I snarled, advancing forward. I felt like hell and according to a talking bear looked even worse, but I wasn't about to lose this fight. "That's not a good enough reason for me. You owe me something better, Birdie. Give me the truth. I've earned that much.". I kept coming forward, forcing Matthew to step back or allow me to plow into him. Matthew paled but held his ground as I came toe to toe with him.

"I don't want to see you anymore. It's as simple as that. Now leave.", were the only words I got next. They are feeble and watery, lacking the fire and the ice Matthew normally gave me. They sounded of desperation borne of old sorrow and hurt, like a child begging the monsters under the bed to leave him alone night after night.

"Nein. Not today. Not until you stop with your bullshit and give me something real. I don't deal in pretty little lies, Birdie. Reality suck enough because them.", I rasped out, trying to raise my voice and failing at it.

"I j-just…I just don't want to see you anymore. W-we're done.", Matthew stammered out, his mask cracking along the edges from the strain, the ice in his eyes melting under my red hot stare.

"Not good enough.", I yelled in his face. My good arm snaked up to rip off his glasses. Matthew gasped as I threw them across the room and well out of his reach. My sharp words cut off any complaints he might have had. "You're afraid. Don't deny it. I can see it in your eyes. Tell me. Why are you so afraid?"

"You don't want to do this with me.", Matthew said, his voice rushed. It didn't sound like a threat from the panic that choked him, carried on the backs of other heavier emotions, "I don't want to hurt you."

"I can take a hit.", I bluffed. I really couldn't right now but I held onto the feeling that Matthew wasn't talking against me. I felt like he was slandering himself instead.

"But can you take a hint?", Matthew shot back, his eyes practically begging me to be left alone, "I don't want to talk aboot this."

"About what? Us?", I pressed, not willing or able to break the eye contact. Matthew was frozen like a deer in headlights as well, unable to turn himself away.

"There is no 'us'! You are my model!", Matthew said too quickly, not realizing he had just trapped himself in his haste to deny me.

"Nein. I'm not anymore.", I corrected with a grin, "You just fired me, remember? So that means we can talk about us.". I had just talked him into at circle. Matthew looked around as if for some sort of real escape from this confrontation.

"Stop. Just stop.", Matthew held up a hand between us to create a space in an obvious effort to regain some sort of balance. I wasn't going to let him get a chance to do so as I cut off all his escape's routes.

"Why? Tell me why. I know you feel something for me. I've seen it. I've felt it and it isn't all hate. I've seen you lust after me.", I said the truth in level tones as I challenged him, "Even if you won't admit it, you want to touch me. You kissed me back the other day. Some part of you wants me…..". I would have kept going but Matthew took the conversation into his own hands.

"What do you want from me!?, Matthew screamed at me, "What the fuck do you want from me!?". His eyes were wide and golden with jagged shards of color in them. Their sight was frantic, searching my face for something. Matthew grabbed my shoulders, which kept me standing even as my right side wilted under the crushed grip. My vision swam for a second until I bit my tongue hard enough to draw blood. The pain cleared it up after a moment.

"You! You fucking moron! I want you!", I gasped, holding his golden eyes with my own to show him that every cell of my being rang with sincerity. Matthew stared back at me looking lost for some reason, his eyes running over my shoulders and top of my head as if he were tracking something.

"But why?! Tell me why! Just tell me! No more games! Do you want something from me?!", Matthew gaped back. As much as I loved him, I really felt like walking away from all of this, but I had made a promise not only to Al but to myself as well. Matthew would be mine not matter how much it hurt..

"Nein. Just you. All of you.", I said. I ended up gasping in relief and surprise when Matthew suddenly let me go to fall to his knees. He looked up at me, his gaze one of lost and loss, his expression barren of any hope. It was painful to look upon as it was beautiful.

"I don't like me very much. I don't see how you can when I don't.", Matthew whispered. He closed his eyes to shed tears down his pale cheeks, wetting them with silvery ice. My fingertips grazed their warm paths.

"Don't cry, liebling.", I told him, trying for a soothing voice to only get a crow's croak instead. I would have to make all my words count since I sounded like a death rattle. "You're too close to it. You need to step back from yourself.". Matthew just opened his eyes to stare up at me in answer. It wasn't the resounding response I was looking for but at least he was paying attention. "It's like what you're always telling me. That art is based on perscpetive. That sometimes you need to step back and really take a moment to look at a piece from time to time to really appreciate it or risk losing all view of it." I cupped his face with my hands so that Matthew could not look away from me, "Let me tell you what I see when I look at you."

"You're beautiful, but not just your looks or in the way that you think. You wear your sorrow so openly it glitters and when you speak it makes me think of moonlight in quiet places. If I had to pick one thing about you I liked the most, it would have to be your hands. I love your hands. I love them on me, gliding over my skin, touching every part of me. You are so gentle, did you know that? You touch me with a reverance that I don't deserve, that no one has ever shown me before."

"I could say all the normal cliché crap you have heard a million times before but I'm sure you know it all by heart. The funny thing is though, it's all true in your case.". Matthew leaned into my hands, covering them with his own. He was shaking but laughing weakly as well.

"Is that your best pickup line?", Matthew asked. He sounded like he was trying not to cry so the words came out all wrong, strained and overlong.

"Nein, usually it is just 'Nice shoes. Let's fuck'.", I chuckled. Matthew actually joined in with me and this time his laugh, small as it was, sounded good, clean, and natural.

"You could try it. I'm an easy lay.", Matthew snorted, dropping his hands to try and look away from me. I jerked his face back to mine, not letting him escape even a little.

"You are classier than that so stop putting yourself down.", I leaned over him so that our foreheads touched and he couldn't avoid my admonishing crimson glare. "And we both know that is a load of BS. I have never worked so hard in my life for just an 'easy lay'."

"Not my fault you're a mashicist.",Matthew smiled a little bit. It was bittersweet but meant for me.

"Says the sadist.", I rolled my eyes before settling back into a more thoughtful expression, "I going to have to use something better than some lame pickup lines. Just for you. Only for you".

"Like what?', Matthew asked. The hope in his eyes was just a glimmer but it burned like a nova to me.

" Ich liebe Dich.", I promised. From Matthew's mixed expression of wistful anticipation and tentative revelation, I knew he understood what I was saying.

"Don't say it unless you mean it.", Matthew warned, swallowing so hard even I heard his throat click.

"I do. I can say it in French if you like that better.", I sank down to my own knees, letting my cheek slide along his own in a salty brush of flesh as I turned my head so that our lips met, "Je t'aime.". I could feel Matthew's arms encircle my waist, his fingers digging into the material and flesh there like a life line. Our kiss was just a chaste press of silken lips but it tingled and burned with a heat I knew we both felt.

"That was horrible. Stick to German.", Matthew whispered into my mouth, "Leave the French to me. I know all the good words and important phrases."

"Will I understand them?', I teased back, touching his lips with the tip of my tongue in quick touches that seared.

"Don't worry. There will be props and interactive demonstrations.", Matthew grinned, biting my bottom lip back.

"Awesome….", I breathed out, letting whatever this was happen between us…

…..until Matthew reached up to sling an arm around my shounders.

"Fuck Maple! Maple Fuck! What is wrong with you!?", Matthew's voice cut through the void of pain I was in. Surfacing through the spinning of my head, I realized I was on my back again lying on the floor with Matthew above me. He was carefully stripping off my clothes and not in the good way. Matthew gasped when he saw my throat, the black handprint on it like an onyx choker. His reactions only got worse when he tore off my t-shirt, being as gentle as he could be when I moaned in pain.

"You fucking idiot! Why aren't you in the hospital!?", Matthew yelled, sounding less than turned on at the moment.

"Because the nurse is creepy! I don't want to get molested!", I whined back in defense, trying to wave Matthew off with my good arm.

"Your shoulder is obviously out of its socket, you stubborn ass, and your throat looks like someone tried to murder you!", Matthew batted my hand away, his fingers making a thorough inspection of the bruising on and around my shoulder and neck. I wasn't bleeding so I hadn't even bothered to look at my injuries since last night. It looked worse than I expected which is never good.

"Awwww, C'mon Birdie! We were having a real moment here.", I gritted out, trying to focus on what was important. Trust Alfred to cock block me and not even be here to do it, "I can always ride if you are that worried about me."

"The only ride you are getting is one to the emergency room.", Matthew informed me with a glare.

"But I don't want to.", I groaned, trying to get back up. Matthew put an end to that idea with one finger pressed to my chest. It would figure he was crazy strong as Alfred.

"Look at all the fuck I give aboot that.", Matthew arched a brow at me. I bared my teeth back at him in frustration. No one could mistake that for a sexy, come hither smile. Sighing, Matthew kept his finger in place but pulled out his cell phone.

"What are you doing?", I growled. Matthew remained looking unimpressed in the face of my rage but considering the guy was keeping me down with one finger it was understandable.

"Calling you a doctor, idiot.", Matthew snapped, before he ignored me in favor of his phone call, "What? No, that wasn't directed at you but it certainly applies."

I had a faint idea of who Matthew was talking to, groaning out loud as it was confirmed. "Alfred Fuckup Jones! You are going to get your fat ass over here this fucking minute and fix my boyfriend!". That definitely made me want to sit up. I only succeeded at trying to impale myself on Matthew's finger.

"Boyfriend?", I grinned, all my irritaiton lost with one word. Matthew flushed darkly at my expression but nodded back with a glare.

"I don't give two flying fucks how close you are to disovering the secrets of the space time continuum or the applications of a time flux capacitor! If I don't see some sort of medical miracle in the next fifteen minutes, I swear to Maple that I will tell Arthur every embarrassing thing you have ever done in intricate detail since birth!", Matthew swore heatedly into the phone. He ended the phone call with Alfred wailing on the other end of it.

"He'll be here in aboot five minutes.", Matthew said calmly, "Just lie still till then.".

"Ja, that makes me feel so much better. I don't want that fucktard around me while I'm injured or messing with it.", I winced as I shifted into a more comfortable position.

"He is not as dumb as he looks, I assure you.", Matthew laughed low and soft. It was one of the sweetest sounds I have ever heard. "In fact, we have a lot things to discuss."

"Not model and artist but boyfriend and boyfriend stuff. About us?", I clarified, giving Matthew a hard look as if daring him to take back his earlier words. He tensed up for only a moment though before relaxing back against the bed beside me.

"Yeah. Aboot us.", Matthew smiled, really smiled this time, for the first time since I have met him. It was a warm expression that lit up every corner of his face and awoke every shade in his gorgeous aurora eyes. It made every slight, every pain, every hardship I had endured worth every second of it. It was like finally coming home after a long journey to find the love of your life there to greet you with open arms.

"Awesome."


	7. Chapter 7

APH PruCan Gakuen Hetalia 7

I carded my fingers through spiky locks of hoarfrost hair, letting myself touch Gilbert gently as I watched him sleep. He was lovely in his repose, his lanky body scrawled out across the inky black silk sheets of my bed. Gilbert's stillness was made of marble and mercury, the statuesque effect painted in gleaming silver and bone white. It was only ruined by the faintness of his slumbering breathe.

Gilbert was here with me. He was mine and I was his. The rush of euphoria that ran through my veins from this knowledge made me feel lightheaded and dizzy enough to make me close my eyes for a moment. I opened them to find burning garnet eyes studying me with an intent, unwavering gaze, like pools of fathomless blood made of liquid fire. It was the way that I imagined stars gazed at passing comets. I could write useless symphonies and sonnets about such eyes and never tire from it. Mable turned liquid as white arms pulling me in closer to that crimson flame.

"Someone looks like they are thinking too hard.", Gilbert murmured sleepily, moving to nuzzle my face with his own, the touch of his skin hot and dry as sun warmed silk against my natural coolness.

"One of us has to be the brains of this operation.", I said just as softly back, not wanting to break the mood though I couldn't resist teasing him a little bit. Gilbert curled in closer to me, his head lowering down to the crook of my neck as our legs entwined and our arms practically braided around each other's torsos.

"I'm more than just good looks, Birdie.", Gilbert smirked. I know he did, feeling the expression he hid in my neck as he scattered butterfly kisses across the tendons of my throat, "Besides being naturally awesome, I got skills."

"Oh, is that what you call that? I think you need to look up the definition of the word. I think 'attempts' is more applicable along with mediocre, novice…..", I taunted while keeping my face the very picture of charm as Gilbert paused in his devotions to my skin to arch a slim silver brow up at me.

"That's not what you were saying about an hour ago. I think it was more along the lines of 'Yes! Maple! Yes! More, eh!'.", Gilbert interrupted, making his point with overly dramatic wanton cries and a bad imitation of my accent.

"I don't sound like that.", I said, shoving him away so that I could smack him properly. I did it grinning though, the playful blows never landing their mark as Gilbert reattached himself to me, leaning in to steal a kiss. My thief decided to linger on my lips, parting them easily with the deft swipe of a skilled tongue to leave me gasping for air and gripping his back with fumbling hands.

It felt good. I felt good. I felt healed.

I know now I will never feel new again or reborn as some terminally positive people would like to say, but I do feel mended, much like a vase glued back together. I wasn't perfect or restored instantly back to my former self. All my worries and problems were not cured magically overnight with a declaration of love and an agreement to date one person faithfully. I was still quite irritable and snappish over trivial things. I was still shortsighted in my temper. I was still paranoid that Gilbert would someday betray part, if not all, of me and in some small way, I would always be on guard against that. I still didn't suffer fools well, but admittedly, I was getting better at tolerating them. My eyes no longer wander around a room though, looking for the one who had hurt me or the one who would make me forget for a little while. I had no need to, not any more.

Where you are, not just who you are with, helps a lot too. Gilbert and I are no longer in school, living at the microcosm of the World Academy. After a spectacular blowout with his grandfather, Gilbert graduated early by simply testing out of all his classes. He and I moved to Canada soon afterward and are currently living together at my apartment in Montreal.

Given some time to himself without pressuring from his family, Gilbert decided to pursue photography here. He was complete shit at traditional art mediums but with a camera, he turned out to be the Michelangelo of digital. Couple natural talent with endless curiosity and a break neck fearlessness and Gilbert has quickly become one of the world's premier wildlife photographers. I've already told him if he gets eaten by tigers or cannibals, I will never forgive him and even go so far as to say 'I told you so'.

Established in his new career, Gilbert has mended fences with his family since then and even makes it a point to drop by the Academy whenever he is in New York, much to the distress of the faculty(who, I am sure, pray to any god available that he doesn't).

I even ran into Carlos recently at an art exhibition of a mutual friend. It was nice to feel nothing toward him now. I was even able to feign some sympathy for his current relationship situation or more correctly, lack there of. Apparently, some charming Spaniard with a sunny grin stole Carlos's girlfriend away from him. It hadn't been so bad considering he soon found a gorgeous Frenchman afterward to cushion the blow of it. The Frenchman made Carlos fall completely in love with him and then left the Cuban without so much as an au revoir.

It took all the control I had to keep from laughing the entire time. I made a point of sending Francis and Antonio some signed pieces from my latest collection. They have been hinting heavily ever since Gilbert and I started dating that they knew I was the 'ghost' of the art world. I personally think it is a ridiculous title made up by people with too much time on their hands but I threw them a bone anyway in thanks.

I think that is aboot it really….did you need anything else?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Matthew paused in his interview with the strange little alien who was Alfred's roommate and liaison to the intergalactic confederation. Tony had insisted on writing an article about him, saying he needed a companion fluff piece to go along with the one he had written about Alfred a while ago. Matthew didn't see a problem with it considering no one on Earth was going to read it or even be able to since it was in alien script. It also felt good to talk so candidly about everything with the non blinking alien who truly didn't give a damn or really understand the intricacies of Earthling's relationships.

Tony chirped out something that most people would have dismissed as random noise. Matthew nodded in response though, being one of three people on the Earth who could speak Tony's language fluently, having the rare mental capability for it.

"You want to know what happened to all the rest?", Matthew said slowly as if weighing the alien's question before answering it.

"Well….no surprise, but Alfred married Arthur as soon as the Englishman graduated from the World Academy. As a wedding gift, Arthur got a tropical island to go along with his pirate ship. The two of them take turns living in England and America, though I personally think it's based on who is currently winning the argument at the moment. Despite all their quarrels and fighting, Al and Arthur are meant for each other and make a disgustingly cute couple."

"Alfred is still doing what he does best- scaring the hell out of us and meddling with thing best left untouched. If you were wondering, the time flux capacitor was one of those really bad ideas. We lost Alfred for a couple months to what he claimed were parallel dimensions. He says that in one of them we were all the direct personification of nations and fighting in WWII as the Axis and the Allies. How's that for insane, eh?"

"Arthur became a popular children's author. His beloved stories of fantasy and adventure are currently being made into a movie. I should know, after all I am the one composing the score for it. Writing a piece of music for a flying mint bunny is a little odd but I think I can handle it."

"Though Arthur still doesn't speak with his father, the former Lord Albion, his older brothers are doing quite well. As promised, Alfred gave them full control of the imports/exports company he made them CEO's of after five years of continual profit. Arthur's relationship with them has gotten a lot better over time. Even Connor went to their wedding and behaved himself…..mostly."

"After graduating World Academy, Ludwig and Feliciano went to work for the UN under their respective countries of origins. They still live in New York and have recently moved in together(mostly because Feliciano would not stay at his own apartment. Ludwig claimed it was a waste of money to be renting two apartments instead of just splitting the rent on one…yeah, right)."

"Antonio and Romano still live in New York as well and have even opened a restaurant together called 'The Singing Tomato', a tapas restaurant that specializes in Spanish and Italian cuisine with a focus on tomatoes. Their fights are aboot as famous as the food they serve there."

"Francis became a model and lives in Paris now. After a huge media frenzy, it was revealed that he was sleeping with his manager, some Estonian financial genius named Eduard Von Bock. Neither of them care much aboot it and recently made all the magazine covers again shown lounging on a beach together in the Bahamas."

Tony clicked out another question, one that made the Canadian look very thoughtful before answering. "Me? I go wherever I want to though it is mostly with Gilbert now when he sent out on assignment or is hunting for something unusual to take a picture of.".

The little gray alien did not look satisfied with that answer though, scrunching up its nonexistent nose at Matthew. Taking pity on Tony, Matthew expanded on the unasked question, " I can because I want to. I can go anywhere now. My wings were healed so that I could fly again. It's not my fault they choose to follow my heart."

"And all because someone came looking for me when I didn't even know I was lost.", Matthew smiled softly, the expression sweet and pure even to the blank red eyes of his interviewer.

"One day…..a boy found me."


End file.
